NATURE  AND  INDUSTRY  READERS 


•  Stories  of  • 

WOODS    AND 
FIELDS 

Brown 

WORLD    BOOK    COMPANY 


GIFT   OF 
R-D  .LINQUIST 


EDUCATION  DEP" 


^<f?<f 


u 


NATURE     AND     INDUSTRY     READERS 

STORIES    OF    WOODS    AND 
FIELDS 


BY 

ELIZABETH  V.  BJtOWN 

Supervisor  of  Primary  Schools,  Washington,  D.  C. 


YONKERS-ON-HUDSON,    NEW  YORK 

WORLD  BOOK  COMPANY 

1914 


To  those  who  use  this  book 

THIS  is  one  of  a  series  of  supplementary  readers  which 
draw  upon  the  world's  best  literature.  The  other  books 
of  the  series  are  constructed  on  a  similar  plan  and  they 
all  present  well-selected  nature  material  and  stories  on  industry. 
They  are  adapted  for  use  either  as  readers  or  to  supplement 
nature,  geography,  and  history  lessons.  t|  You  will  naturally 
want  to  know  more  about  the  other  books  in  the  series.  That 
for  the  fifth  and  sixth  grades  is  entitled  ' '  Stories  of  Childhood 
and  Nature,"  and  contains  Childhood  and  Nature  stories  by 
some  of  the  greatest  and  most  gifted  authors.  All  of  them 
appeal  strongly  to  children,  and  many  are  of  geographical  value. 
The  book  contains  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  pages.  It  is 
illustrated  and  bound  in  cloth.  The  list  price  is  forty  cents  and 
the  mailing  price  is  forty-eight  cents.  €][  The  book  for  the  fifth 
grade  and  upward  is  called  "When  the  World  Was  Young." 
It  is  a  most  fascinating  story  of  the  development  from  primitive 
conditions  of  modern  means  of  communication,  transportation, 
agriculture,  etc.,  and  affords  especially  appropriate  material  for 
supplementary  history  lessons.  It  contains  one  hundred  and  sixty 
pages.  It  is  illustrated  and  bound  in  cloth ;  the  list  price  is 
forty  cents,  and  the  mailing  price  is  forty-eight  cents.  €|  Both 
the  above  books  are  published  by  World  Book  Company, 
Yonkers-on-Hudson,  New  York. 

Gift 

EDUCATION  DEPT. 

R.D  .unci:  I  ST 


Copyright,  IQ02,by  World  Book  Company.    All  rights  reserved 
NlR:SWF-3. 


PREFACE 

Happily,  the  time  is  long  past  when  a  plea  for  nature  study- 
is  necessary. 

In  these  stories  an  effort  has  been  made  to  present  subjects 
so  familiar  to  children  that  they  may  be  observed  anywhere  in 
the  great  out-of-door  school,  —  in  the  city  garden  and  park,  as 
well  as  in  the  woods  and  fields. 

They  have  been  arranged  in  sequence  according  to  season, 
to  aid  the  young  observer  in  his  rambles  with  Dame  Nature. 

Since  children's  memories  are  most  active  between  the  ages 
of  nine  and  thirteen  years,  the  poems  have  been  carefully 
selected  with  the  hope  that  many  of  them  may  be  learned  by 
heart,  to  use  a  good  old-fashioned  phrase. 

Courteous  acknowledgment  is  hereby  made  to  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  to  the  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Co., 
to  Mrs.  Margaret  E.  Sangster,  to  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  and 
to  the  Publishers  of  The  Century  and  of  The  Outlook,  for  per- 
mission to  use  the  poems  in  this  book. 


^  n  k  c o  f\ 


And  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took 
The  child  upon  her  knee, 

Saying,  "  Here  is  a  story-book 
Thy  Father  hath  written  for  thee. 

"  Come,  wander  with  me,"  she  said, 
"  Into  regions  yet  untrod, 

And  read  what  is  still  unread 
In  the  manuscripts  of  God." 

And  he  wandered  away  and  away 
With  Nature,  the  dear  old  nurse, 

Who  sang  to  him  night  and  day 
The  rhymes  of  the  universe. 

—  Longfellow. 


CONTENTS 

[Titles  0/ poems  are  printed  in  Italics] 


PAGE 


The  Flag  Bird E.  V.  B 15 

A  Bunch  of  Fall  Flowers         .        .  E.  Y.  B 19 

The  Cloud Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  .        .  23 

Who  Can  Tell?        ....  J.E.Whitney.  .  24 

The  Daisy Rennell  Rodd  ....  24 

The  Life  of  a  Butterfly    .        .        .  E.  V.  B 25 

Who  Was  She  ?  Selected 30 

A  Letter  from  the  Birds  .        .        .  Senator  George  F.  Hoar      .  32 

The  Song  Sparrow    ....  Henry  van  Dyke     ...  36 

Columbus  Day.    Part  I  .  .  E.  V.  B 41 

Columbus  Day.    Part  II  .        .  E.  V.  B. 43 

Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean        .  David  T.  Shaw         ...  47 

How  the  Leaves  Came  Down     .         .  Susan  Coolidge        ...  48 

Columbia's  Emblem  ....  Edna  Dean  Proctor        .        .  52 

Miss  Argiope The  Outlook    ....  53 

Perseverance Eliza  Cook        ....  56 

Those  Funny  Birds  .        .         .  E.  V.  B 59 

Poison  Ivy        .        .        .        .        .  E.  V.  B 63 

Hide  and  Seek Frank  Dempster  Sherman     .  68 

An  Old-time  Thanksgiving     .        .  E.  Y.  B 69 

Tracks  in  the  Snow         .        .        .  E.  V.  B 72 

Squirrel  Ways E.  V.  B 76 

The  Owl Alfred  Tennyson     ...  79 

Winter  Quarters      .        .        .        .  E.  V.  B 80 

5 


6  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  North  Wind       .        .        .  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  .  84 

A  Winter  Resident  .         .         .  E.  V.  B 85 

A  Bird's  Questions  .         .         .  E.  V.  B 89 

Shoe,  or  Stocking  ?    .         .         .  Edith  M.  Thomas     ....  90 

How  Santa  Claus  Taught  School  E.  V.  B 91 

The  Beaver      .        .        .        .  E.  V.  B 97 

Washington's  Birthday      .         .  Margaret  E.  Sangster  .        .         .  102 

Butterflies  and  Moths       .        .  E.  Y.  B 104 

Paul's  Queer  Pets 108 

More  about  Paul's  Pets 110 

Waiting  for  May      .        .        .  Marian  Douglass     .        .        .        .115 

The  Cow Robert  Louis  Stevenson        .        .  116 

Baking  Day  in  the  Hive  .        .  E.  V.  B.       .        .        .        .        .        .117 

.  The  New  Queen       .        .        .  E.  V.  B .120 

The  Bluet        .        .        .        .  E.  V.  B 123 

Clovers Helena  Leeming  Jelliffe     .        .  125 

Arbutus Frederick  W.  Faber       .         .         .  126 

The  Tree  Toad         .        .        .  E.  V.  B 127 

The  Oaten  Pipe         .        .        .  Mary  Newmarch  Prescott    .        ,  129 

Sassafras  Mittens      .         .         .  E.  V.  B 130 

The  Proud  Buckwheat    .        .  Hans  Christian  Andersen     .        .  133 

Bunny  and  the  Easter  Eggs    .  E.  V.  B 137 

The  Empty  Cradles          .        .  E.  V0  B 143 

In  the  Meadow ....  Frank  Dempster  Sherman     .        .  146 

The  Faint-hearted  Mouse 147 

Edna's  Chewinks     .        .        .  E.  V.  B.      .        .        .        .        .        .148 

New  Clothes    .        .        .        .  E.  V.  B .  .        .153 

Martha's  Polliwog 155 

The  Flower  Parade .        .        .  E.  V.  B 161 

Elsie's  Dream  .        .        .        .  E.  V.  B 163 

Picture-Books  in  Winter    .        .  Robert  Louis  Stevenson        .        .  166 
The  Ruby-throated  Humming 

Bird E.  V.  B 167 


CONTENTS  7 

PAGK 

A  Humming  Bird     .        .        .    Edgar  Fawcett        ....  171 

The  Field  Fairies 172 

The  Church  in  the  Woods       .     Adapted 174 

The  Robins'  Home  .        .        .    E.  Y.  B 178 

The  Secret         ....     George  Cooper         ....  179 

Robin  at  School       .        .        .     E.  V.  B 180 

The  Piper's  Song      .         .         .     William  Blake         ....  182 

Helpful  Robin          .        .        .    E.  V.  B 183 

The  Dragon  Fly       .        .        .     E.  V.  B 185 

Violets J.  Moultrie 189 

Two  of  a  Trade        .         .        .     S.  W.  Duffield         ....  190 

The  Birthday  of  Our  Flag       .     E.  V.  B 191 

America S.  F.  Smith 192 


J 


CONTENTS   CLASSIFIED 


Plants  : 

A  Bunch  of  Fall  Flowers 

The  Daisy 

How  the  Leaves  Came  Down 

Columbia's  Emblem 

Poison  Ivy 

The  Bluet 

Clovers 

Arbutus     . 

Sassafras  Mittens 

The  Proud  Buckwheat 

In  the  Meadow 

The  Flower  Parade  : 

Elsie's  Dream    . 

The  Church  in  the  Woods 

Violets 
Insects : 

The  Life  of  a  Butterfly 

Who  Was  She? 

Butterflies  and  Moths 

Waiting  for  May 

Baking  Day  in  the  Hive 

The  New  Queen 

The  Empty  Cradles  . 

The  Dragon  Fly 

Two  of  a  Trade 
Spiders  : 

Miss  Argiope     . 

Perseverance 
Reptiles  : 

Those  Funny  Birds  —  Tortoises 

Paul's  Queer  Pets  —  Lizards     . 

More  about  Paul's  Pets  —  Horned  Toad 

9 


10  CONTENTS   CLASSIFIED 

■a  PAGE 

Amphibians  : 

The  Tree  Toad 127 

The  Oaten  Pipe 129 

Martha's  Polliwog 155 

Birds : 

The  Flag  Bird — Red-headed  Woodpecker 15 

A  Letter  from  the  Birds 32 

The  Song  Sparrow 36 

The  Owl 79 

A  Winter  Resident  —  Flicker 85 

A  Bird's  Questions 89 

Edna's  Chewinks 148 

New  Clothes 153 

The  Ruby-throated  Humming  Bird 167 

A  Humming  Bird 171 

The  Robins'  Home 178 

The  Secret 179 

Robin  at  School 180 

Helpful  Robin 183 

Mammals  : 

Tracks  in  the  Snow 72 

Squirrel  Ways 76 

Winter  Quarters 80 

The  Beaver 97 

The  Cow 116 

Bunny  and  the  Easter  Eggs 137 

The  Faint-hearted  Mouse         .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  147 

History  and  Holidays: 

Columbus  Day.     I 41 

Columbus  Day.     II 43 

Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean .47 

An  Old-time  Thanksgiving 69 

Christmas  — 

Shoe,  or  Stocking? 90 

How  Santa  Claus  Taught  School 91 

Washington's  Birthday 102 

The  Birthday  of  Our  Flag 191 

America 192 


CONTENTS   CLASSIFIED  U 

PAGE 

Miscellaneous  : 

.  The  Cloud 23 

Who  Can  Tell? 24 

Hide  and  Seek 68 

The  North  Wind 84 

Picture-Books  in  Winter 166 

The  Field  Fairies 172 

The  Piper's  Song      ••••••••••  182 


RED-HEADED   WOODPECKERS  After  Audubon 


STORIES  OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


°>K° 


THE   FLAG   BIRD 


He  was  a  carpenter. 

Hans  and  Gretchen  used  to  watch  for  him 
every  morning  on  their  way  to  school. 

Sometimes  they  heard  him  hammering,  and 
saw  him  at  his  work  ;  at  other  times  he  was  going 
to  market,  or  eating  his  breakfast,  when  they 
passed. 

They  loved  him,  because  they  were  little  Ger- 
man children  who  had  not  been  long  in  America, 
and  he  always  wore  the  colors  of  their  German 
flag,  —  red,  white,  and  black. 

The  other  children  called  him  the  red-headed 
woodpecker,  but  to  Hans  and  Gretchen  he  was 
always  the  flag  bird. 

Deep  red  feathers  covered  his  head,  throat,  and 
neck  like  a  hood  ;  his  breast  was  wiiite,  his  back 

15 


16  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

black  with  a  white  patch  just  above  the  tail- 
feathers,  while  his  wings  and  tail  were  black 
trimmed  with  white. 

His  shop,  which  was  also  his  home,  was  near 
the  top  of  a  dead  oak  tree.  It  was  too  far  above 
the  heads  of  the  children  for  them  to  look  into 
it,  but  they  could  easily  see  the  round  front  door. 

He  built  his  home  with  no  one  to  help  him 
except  his  mate. 

The  children  were  not  so  fond  of  the  young, 
for  they  were  not  flag  birds.  Their  hoods  were 
grayish  brown  instead  of  red ;  and  although  their 
backs  were  black,  their  white  breasts  were 
streaked  with  brown. 

But  the  parents  thought  them  handsome  birds, 
and  there  was  a  reason  why  they  wore  dull 
clothes.     Do  you  know  what  it  was? 

When  it  was  time  to  build  the  home,  the 
woodpecker  tapped  on  the  tree  trunk  with  his 
hammer,  which  is  his  biL,  you  know,  until  he 
found  a  place  which  pleased  him. 

"  Rat-a-tat-tat !  rat-a-tat-tat!"  he  hammered 
away.     When  he  was  tired,  his  mate  took  her  turn. 


THE   FLAG  BIRD 


17 


First  a  round  door  was  made,  then  a  long 
passage  down  in  the  trunk.  When  it  was  deep 
enough,  some  loose  chips  and  sawdust  were  put 
in  the  bottom  of  it,  to  make  a  soft  place  for  the 
six  pure  white  eggs  which  the  mother  bird  laid. 

When  the  woodpecker  was  not  working,  he  was 
either  going  to  market  or  eating  his  meals. 

You  can  see  what  he  brought  for  the  family,  for 
here  is  the 


BILL 

Ants 

OF 

FARE 
Spiders 

Wasps 

Grasshoppers 

Crickets 

June  bugs 

Corn 

Strawberries 

Blackberries 

Chokeberries 

Wild  grapes 

Beechnuts 

Acorns 

When  he  had  more  food  than  they  could  eat, 
he  stored  it  away  in  strange  cupboards,  in  cracks 


18  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

in  gate-posts,  in  fences,  in  telegraph-poles,  in  rail- 
road-ties, and  even  between  the  shingles  on  the  roof. 

You  may  be  able  to  see  some  flag  birds  in  your 
neighborhood,  for  they  may  be  found  almost  any- 
where from  Canada  to  Florida. 

They  are  such  handsome  birds,  I  am  sure  you 
will  be  as  glad  to  make  their  acquaintance  as 
Hans  and  Gretchen  were. 

If  you  read  the  story  of  "  Hiawatha  and  the 
Pearl-feather, "  you  will  find  how  a  cousin  of  this 
woodpecker  helped  Hiawatha  to  overcome  the 
wicked  enemy,  by  telling  him  where  to  aim  his 
"  arrows  tipped  with  jasper.77  .  As  a  reward,  the 
story  tells  — 

. 

"  Then  the  grateful  Hiawatha 
Called  the  Mama,  the  woodpecker, 
From  his  perch  among  the  branches 
Of  the  melancholy  pine  tree, 
And,  in  honor  of  his  service, 
Stained  with  blood  the  tuft  of  feathers 
On  the  little  head  of  Mama : 
Even  to  this  day  he  wears  it, 
Wears  the  tuft  of  crimson  feathers, 
As  a  symbol  of  his  service." 


A  BUNCH  OF  FALL  FLOWERS 


19 


A  BUNCH   OF  FALL  FLOWERS 

Close  to  the  garden  fence  was  a  bed  of  cosmos 
and  chrysanthemums.  The  pink  and  white  cos- 
mos flowers  were  almost 


gone,  but  the  chrysan- 
themums were  just  be- 
ginning to  bloom;  so 
you  can  guess  what  time 
of  year  it  was. 

Towering  above  the 
fence,  on  the  other  side, 
stood  a  tall  golden  Sun- 
flower, with  a  little  blue 
Aster  at  its  feet. 

The  flowers  held  their 
faces  up  to   the  bright 
warm     Sun,    who    was 
smiling  down  upon  them  from  the  sky  high  above 
their  heads. 

"  Cosmos,77  said  Sunflower,  "do  you  know  that 
we  flowers  are  all  cousins?  " 

"Why,  no!  "  said  Cosmos. 


COSMOS 


20 


STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


"  How  strange !  "  said  a 
beautiful  white  Chrysan- 
themum. 

"  Oh,  how  funny, " 
laughed  little  Aster,  "for 
a  great  tall  Sunflower  to 
be  my  cousin !  " 

"Who    told    you,    Sun- 
flower?"  asked  Cosmos. 
"  The  Sun  told  me.    We  talk  together 
very  often,  and  he  tells  me  a  great 
many  things. 

"  You  see,  each  flower  of  our  family 
is  like  a  hotel. 
"  Ever  so  many  little 
flowers  live  side  by 
side  in  one  big  house 
or  disk.  We  have  a 
very  distinguished 
name,  too.  Some  of 
the  most  beautiful 
flowers  belong  to  the 
Composite  Family. 


CHRYSANTHEMUM 


RAY  FLOWER  AND  TUBULAR  FLOWER  OF  DISK 


A  BUJSTCH   OF  FALL   FLOWERS  21 

"  These  yellow  flowers,  which  make  such  a  pretty 
fringe  around  my  edge,  are  called  'ray  flowers/ 
because  they  look 
so  much  like  the 
sun's  golden  rays. 
M  Your  rays  are 
white  or  pink,  Cos- 
mos. Chrysanthe- 
mum's are  yellow, 
white,  pink,  or  red;  while  Cousin  Aster's  are 
purple,  white,  or  blue." 

"My   disk    flowers    are    always    yellow,"  said 
Cosmos. 

"  So  are  ours,"  chimed  Aster  and  Sun- 
flower ;      while      Chrysanthemum 
said,  "I  am  all  double,  so  that  I 
have  no  disk  flowers  at  all ;    but 
I  used  to  have  them  when  I  was 
wild,  before  I  came  into  the  gar- 
den to  live,," 
"  B'z-z-z-z,  what  is  all  this  talking  about?  "  said 
*i  big  Bumblebee  just  up  from  the  clover  field. 
u  Is  there  anything  here  for  a  hungry  bee  to  eat  ? 


22 


ST0KIES  OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 


"I  know  where  to  find  something  good/7  said 
he,  flying  toward  Cosmos,  for  Cosmos  had  plenty 
of  pollen  in  her  disk  flowers,  which  he  knew  how 

to  make  into  good 
beebread. 

As  their  visitor 
left,  Sunflower 
glanced  up,  and 
was  surprised  to 
see  that  the  Sun 
had  hidden  be- 
hind some  black 
clouds  which  were 
playing  hide-and- 
seek  in  the  sky. 

The  breeze  rus- 
tled softly  through 
the  grass,  and  whispered  among  the  leaves  of  the 
trees. 

Then  a  silvery  laugh  was  heard,  and  "  Splash  !  n 
came  a  drop  of  rain  on  Sunflower's  nodding  head, 
then  another  and  another,  till  the  air  was  full  of 
sparkling,  laughing  raindrops,  tumbling  and  roll- 


SUNFLOWER 


THE   CLOUD  23 

ing  over  one  another  in  their  hurry  to  reach  the 
ground ;  while  the  flowers  nodded  to  and  fro, 
and  dodged  this  way  and  that  to  catch  all  the 
raindrops  they  could. 


THE   CLOUD 


I  bring  fresh  showers  for  the  thirsting  flowers, 

From  the  seas  and  streams ; 
I  bear  light  shade  for  the  leaves  when  laid 

In  their  noonday  dreams. 

From  my  wings  are  shaken  the  dews  that  waken 

The  sweet  buds  every  one, 
When  rocked  to  rest  on  their  mother's  breast, 

As  she  dances  about  the  sun. 

I  wield  the  flail  of  the  lashing  hail, 
And  whiten  the  green  plains  under ; 

And  then  again  I  dissolve  it  in  rain, 
And  laugh  as  I  pass  in  thunder. 

—  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 


24  STOKIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

WHO   CAN   TELL? 

Who  can  tell  when  the  winter  is  coming? 
Who  can  tell  when  the  summer  is  going? 
We  go  to  sleep  when  the  asters  are  blooming. 
We  wake !    and  we  find  it  snowing. 

Who  can  tell  when  the  winter  is  going? 
Who  can  tell  when  the  summer  is  coming? 
We  go  to  sleep  when  the  tempests  are  blowing. 
We  wake!    and  the  bees. are  humming. 

—  J.  E.  Whitney.     By  permission  of  The  Century* 


THE   DAISY 


With  little  white  leaves  in  the  grasses, 
Spread  wide  for  the  smile  of  the  sun, 

It  waits  till  the  daylight  passes, 
And  closes  them  one  by  one. 

I  have  asked  why  it  closed  at  even, 
And  I  know  what  it  wished  to  say : 

"  There  are  stars  all  night  in  heaven, 
And  I  am  the  star  of  the  day." 

—  Rennell  Rodd. 


THE  LIFE   OF  A  BUTTERFLY 


25 


Can  you  read  butterfly  language? 

Here  is  a  page  of  it,  telling  the  story  of  how 
one  of  the  tiny  white  eggs  on  the  leaf  grew  to 
be  a  beautiful  butterfly,  with  wings  of  black 
trimmed  with  gold. 

The  butterfly  mother  did  not  stay  to  take 
care  of  her  eggs,  as  the  bird  mothers  do,  but 
flew  away  to  visit  the  nectar  cups  of  her  flower 
friends. 

But  the  sun  sent  its  warm  rays  down  upon 
the  neglected  eggs,  until  some  small  green 
caterpillars,  with  black  stripes  and  gold  dots, 
came  out  of  them,  and  crawled  away  among  the 
leaves  as  fast  as  their  sixteen  little  legs  could 
carry  them. 


26  STORIES   OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

They  were  the  hungriest  of  caterpillars !  They 
did  nothing  but  eat,  eat,  eat,  for  several  weeks, 
as  they  crawled  from  one  plant  to  another,  nib- 
bling round  holes  in  the  celery  leaves,  and  biting 
off  the  edges  of  the  parsley  and  the  green,  juicy 
tops  of  the  carrots. 

Do  you  wonder  that  farmers  do  not  like  cater- 
pillars to  get  into  their  gardens? 

But  at  last  they  seemed  to  grow  tired  even  of 
eating,  for  they  crawled  away  to  rest  in  different 
places. 

Our  caterpillar  chose  the  under  side  of  a  leaf, 
where  it  lay  sleepily  for  a  little  while.  But  it 
was  soon  busily  at  work  again. 

Pulling  a  long  thread  of  silk  from  its  body, 
through  a  tube  in  its  lower  lip,  it  made  a  little 
tuft,  in  which  it  caught  its  hind  feet;  then  it 
threw  a  thread  around  the  upper  part  of  its 
body  to  hold  it  to  a  leaf. 

There  it  hung  for  several  hours,  keeping  very 
still,  until  the  green,  black,  and  gold  caterpillar- 
skin  fell  off,  leaving  a  little  green  shell,  which 
soon  turned  brown,  like  the  one  in  the  picture. 


'\  \  jTQUi  ejJ^tocTii' 


PARSLEY  WORM  AND  BUTTERFLY 


THE   LIFE  OF  A  BUTTERFLY  29 

I  know  there  was  something  in  the  little  brown 
house,  because  it  wriggled  when  I  touched  it. 
I  know  it  in  another  way ;  for,  about  two  weeks 
later,  the  brown  house  opened  its  door,  and  out 
came  a  black-and-gold  butterfly,  which  was  the 
very  image  of  the  mother  who  laid  the  cluster 
of  eggs  on  the  green  leaf. 

It  had  grown  from  an  egg  to  a  caterpillar,  from 
a  caterpillar  to  a  pupa,  and  from  a  pupa  to  a  full- 
fledged  butterfly. 

Then  it  was  ready  to  fly  away  to  the  flowers, 
to  sip  the  nectar  in  their  cups,  with  its  long, 
hollow  tongue.  It  couldn't  bite  a  leaf  stalk  or 
nibble  even  a  flower  petal,  if  it  tried.  It  had 
only  six  legs  instead  of  sixteen,  but  it  didn't 
mind  that,  as  it  waved  its  beautiful  wings.  I 
wonder  if  it  remembered  the  time  when  it  was 
only  a  crawling  caterpillar. 


I'd  be  a  butterfly  born  in  a  bower, 
Where  roses  and  lilies  and  violets  meet. 

—  Thomas  Haynes  Bayly. 


30  STOKIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

WHO   WAS   SHE? 

As  I  was  going  down  the  walk, 

So  pleasant,  cool,  and  shady, 
Eight  in  the  middle  of  the  path 

I  met  a  little  lady. 

I  made  to  her  my  sweetest  bow ; 

She  only  walked  on  faster. 
I  smiled,  and  said,  "  Good-morning,  ma'am,77 

The  moment  that  I  passed  her. 

She  did  not  notice  me  at  all ; 

I  really  felt  quite  slighted. 
I  thought,  "  Til  follow  you,  I  will, 

Although  I7m  not  invited.77 

Perhaps  you  think  me  very  rude ; 

But  then  she  looked  so  funny !  — 
From  head  to  foot  all  dressed  in  fur, 

This  summer  day  so  sunny. 

She  didn7t  mind  the  heat  at  all, 
But  wrapped  the  fur  around  her, 


WHO  WAS   SHE?  31 

And  hurried  on,  as  if  to  say, 

"  I'll  'tend  to  my  own  gown,  sir." 

I  followed  her  the  whole  way  home ; 

Her  home  was  in  my  garden, 
Beneath  my  choicest  vines  —  and  yet 

She  never  asked  my  pardon. 

I  never  heard  her  speak  a  word ; 

But  once  I  heard  the  miller, 
Coming  down  the  sidewalk,  say, 

"  There  goes  Miss  Caterpillar." 

—  Selected. 
THE   WEATHER 

When  the  weather  is  wet 

We  must  not  fret ; 
When  the  weather  is  cold 

We  must  not  scold ; 
When  the  weather  is  warm 

We  must  not  storm ; 
But 
Be  thankful  together, 
Whatever  the  weather. 


32  STOKIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

A  LETTER  FROM   THE   BIRDS 

[A  petition  forwarded  to  the  General  Court  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
Massachusetts  by  Hon.  George  F.  Hoar,  senator  from  that  State.  I  think 
the  birds  would  like  to  have  you  write  an  answer  to  their  letter.  You  might 
address  it  to  a  committee  of  four  birds  which  live  in  your  neighborhood.] 

Dear  Friends, — 

We  know  more  about  you  than  you  think  we 
do.  We  know  how  good  you  are.  We  have 
hopped  about  the  roofs,  and  looked  in  at  the 
windows  of  the  houses  you  have  built  for  poor 
and  sick  and  hungry  people,  and  little  lame  and 
deaf  and  blind  children. 

We  have  built  our  nests  in  the  trees,  and  sung 
many  a  song  as  we  flew  about  the  gardens  and 
parks  you  have  made  so  beautiful  for  your 
own  children,  especially  your  poor  children,  to 
play  in. 

We  are  Americans,  just  as  you  are.  Some  of 
us  came  from  across  the  great  sea,  but  most  of 
the  birds  have  lived  here  a  long  while ;  and  birds 
like  us  welcomed  your  fathers  when  they  came 
here  many  years  ago. 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE   BIRDS  33 

Now  we  have  a  sad  story  to  tell  you.  Thought- 
less or  bad  people  are  trying  to  destroy  us.  They 
kill  us  because  our  feathers  are  beautiful.  Even 
pretty  and  sweet  girls,  who  we  think  would  be 
our  best  friends,  kill  our  brothers  and  children, 
so  that  they  may  wear  their  plumage  on  their 
hats.  Cruel  boys  destroy  our  nests,  and  steal  our 
eggs  and  our  young  ones.  People  with  guns  and 
snares  lie  in  wait  to  kill  us,  as  if  the  place  for  a 
bird  were  not  in  the  sky,  alive,  but  in  a  shop- 
window  or  under  a  glass  case. 

If  this  goes  on  much  longer,  all  your  song  birds 
will  be  gone.  Already,  we  are  told,  in  some  other 
countries  that  used  to  be  full  of  birds  they  are 
almost  gone.  Even  the  nightingales  are  all 
being  killed  in  Italy. 

Now  we  humbly  pray  that  you  will  stop  all 
this,  and  will  save  us  from  this  sad  fate.  You 
have  already  made  a  law  that  no  one  shall  kill 
a  harmless  song  bird,  or  destroy  our  nests  or  our 
eggs.  Will  you  please  to'  make  another,  that  no 
one  shall  wear  our  feathers,  so  that  no  one  will 
kill   us   to  get  them?     We  want  them  all  our- 


34  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

selves.  Your  pretty  girls  are  pretty  enough 
without  them.  We  are  told  that  it  is  as  easy 
for  you  to  do  it  as  for  Blackbird  to  whistle. 

If  you  will,  we  know  how  to  pay  you  a  hun- 
dred times  over.  We  will  teach  your  children 
to  keep  themselves  clean  and  neat.  We  will 
show  them  how  to  live  together  in  peace  and 
love,  and  to  agree,  as  we  do  in  our  nests.  We 
will  build  pretty  houses  which  you  will  like  to 
see.  We  will  play  about  your  gardens  and  flower- 
beds —  ourselves  like  flowers  on  wings  —  without 
any  cost  to  you.  We  will  destroy  the  wicked 
insects  and  worms  that  spoil  your  cherries,  cur- 
rants, plums,  apples,  and  roses.  We  will  give 
you  our  best  songs,  and  make  the  spring  more 
beautiful  and  the  summer  sweeter  to  you. 

Every  June  morning  when  you  go  out  into  the 
field,  Oriole,  Blackbird,  and  Bobolink  will  fly 
after  you  and  make  the  day  more  delightful  to 
you;  and  when  you  go  home  tired  at  sundown, 
Vesper  Sparrow  will  tell  you  how  grateful  we 
are.  When  you  sit  on  your  porch  after  dark, 
Fife  Bird,  Hermit  Thrush,  and  Wood  Thrush  will 


A  LETTER   FROM  THE   BIRDS  35 

sing  to  you ;  and  even  Whip-poor-will  will  cheer 

up  a  little.     We  know  where  we  are  safe.     In  a 

little   while   all   the   birds  will  come  to  live   in 

Massachusetts  again,  and   everybody   who   loves 

music  will  like  to   make  a  summer  home  with 

you. 

Your  woodland  friends, 

Oriole  Chewink 

Wood  Thrush  Kobin  Redbreast 

Vesper  Sparrow  Humming  Bird 

Summer  Redbird  Woodpecker 

Swallow  Martin 

Song  Sparrow  Cowbird 

Vireo  Indigo  Bird 

Kingbird  Pewee 

Veery  Cedar  Bird 

Chickadee  Phoebe 

Blackbird  Robert  O'Lincoln 

Wren  Scarlet  Tanager 

Sandpiper  Fife  Bird 

Lark  Whip-poor-will 

Blue  Heron  Brown  Thrasher 


36  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

.   THE   SONG   SPARROW 

There  is  a  bird  I  know  so  well, 
It  seems  as  if  he  must  have  sung 
Beside  my  crib  when  I  was  young ; 
Before  I  knew  the  way  to  spell 
The  name  of  even  the  smallest  bird, 
His  gentle  joyful  song  I  heard, 
Now  see  if  you  can  tell,  my  dear, 
What  bird  it  is  that  every  year 
Sings  ' '  Sweet  —  sweet  —  sweet  —  very  merry 
cheer.77 

He  comes  in  March,  when  winds  are  strong, 
And  snow  returns  to  hide  the  earth ; 
But  still  he  warms  his  heart  with  mirth, 
And  waits  for  May.     He  lingers  long 
While  flowers  fade  ;  and  every  day 
Eepeats  his  small,  contented  lay ; 
As  if  to  say  we  need  not  fear 
The  season 7s  change,  if  love  is  here 
With  "  Sweet  —  sweet  —  sweet  —  very  merry 
cheer.77 


'  SWEET-SWEET-SWEET— VERY  MERRY  CHEER" 


THE   SONG   SPAEEOW  39 

He  does  not  wear  a  Joseph's  coat 
Of  many  colors,  smart  and  gay ; 
His  suit  is  Quaker  brown  and  gray, 
With  darker  patches  at  his  throat ; 
And  yet  of  all  the  well-dressed  throng 
Not  one  can  sing  so  brave  a  song. 
It  makes  the  pride  of  looks  appear 
A  vain  and  foolish  thing,  to  hear 
His   "  Sweet  —  sweet  —  sweet  —  very  merry 
cheer. " 

A  lofty  place  he  does  not  love, 
But  sits  by  choice,  and  well  at  ease, 
In  hedges  and  in  little  trees 
That  stretch  their  slender  arms  above 
The  meadow  brook ;  and  there  he  sings 
Till  all  the  field  with  pleasure  rings ; 
And  so  he  tells  in  every  ear, 
That  lowly  homes  to  heaven  are  near 
In    "  Sweet  —  sweet  —  sweet  —  very   merry 
cheer. " 

I  like  the  tune,  I  like  the  words, 
They  seem  so  true,  so  free  from  art, 


40  STOKIES   OF  WOODS  AND  MELDS 

So  friendly,  and  so  full  of  heart, 
That  if  but  one  of  all  the  birds 
Could  be  my  comrade  everywhere, 
My  little  brother  of  the  air, 
This  is  the  one  I'd  choose,  my  dear, 
Because  he'd  bless  me  every  year 
With  "  Sweet  —  sweet  —  sweet  —  very  merry 
cheer.77 

—  Henry  van  Dyke. 

By  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


Lo,  the  winter  is  past, 
The  rain  is  over  and  gone ; 

The  flowers  appear  on  the  earth ; 
The  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come, 
And  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our 
land. 

The  vines  are  in  blossom, 
They  give  forth  their  fragrance. 
Awake,  0  north  wind ;  and  come,  thou  south ; 
Blow  upon  my  garden,  that  the  spices  thereof 
may  flow  out. 

—  Song  of  Songs. 


COLUMBUS  DAY 


41 


COLUMBUS   DAY 


It  was  the  twelfth 
of  October.  Columbus 
Day  was  being  cele- 
brated in  Henry's 
school  in  Illinois ;  but 
he  was  in  Washington, 
going  around  with  his 
aunt  to  see  the  great 
public  buildings,  while 
his  father  was  attend- 
ing to  the  business 
which  had  called  him 
to  the  city. 

The  children  at 
home  were  singing  "America,"  "The  Star-span- 
gled Banner/7  and  other  patriotic  songs,  and  read- 
ing Columbus  poems.  Both  of  Henry's  chums 
were  down  on  the  program. 

Bob  Goodfellow  told  the  story  of  how  Colum- 
bus, when   he  was  a  little  child,  used  to  play 


STATUE    OF    COLUMBUS,    CAPITOL, 
WASHINGTON 


42  STOEIES   OF   WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

around  the  wharves  of  Genoa,  running  over  the 
ships,  climbing  the  masts,  learning  to  tie  queer 
sailor's  knots,  and  hearing  strange  stories  of  the 
far-off  lands  called  India,  and  Cipango,  the  old 
name  for  Japan. 

Frank  showed  by  the  globe,  that  if  a  man  started 
from  San  Francisco,  New  York,  or  Boston,  to  go 
around  the  world,  he  would  come  right  back  to 
his  starting-point.  But  the  people  who  lived 
over  four  hundred  years  ago,  when  Columbus  did, 
said  that  the  earth  was  flat,  and,  if  a  man  walked 
far  enough,  he  would  fall  off  the  edge. 

One  of  the  other  boys  described  the  long  jour- 
ney across  the  water,  the  angry  sailors  who 
wanted  to  throw  Columbus  overboard  because 
land  was  not  reached  as  soon  as  they  expected, 
the  first  sight  of  the  new  country,  and  the 
Indians,  the  queerest  people  they  had  ever  seen. 

When  he  finished,  the  teacher  looked  at  the 
program  with  smiling  eyes,  and  surprised  the 
school  by  saying,  "  The  next  thing  I  see  is 
A  Columbus  Letter,  by  Henry  Miller. " 

"Why,  he  is  absent,  Miss  Eeed.      Don't  you 


COLUMBUS  DAY  43 

remember  he  went  to  Washington  with  his  father 
a  week  ago  ?  "  said  Bob. 

"I  know  it,"  laughed  Miss  Reed,  "but  here  is 
his  letter.  It  came  yesterday,  and  as  I  thought 
you  would  all  like  to  hear  it,  I  put  it  down  on 
the  program." 

ii 
Washington,  D,C.,  October  10,  1900. 

My  dear  Miss  Reed, — 

Please  tell  all  the  boys  I  am  having  a  great 
time. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  the  White  House  to  Presi- 
dent McKinley's  noonday  reception,  and  he  shook 
hands  with  me.  I  think  I  should  like  to  be 
president  myself  some  day. 

A  few  days  ago  my  aunt  took  me  to  the  Capitol 
to  see  the  senators  and  representatives  who  make 
the  laws  for  our  country.  The  Senate  and  the 
House  of  Representatives  look  like  two  big  school- 
rooms. The  men  all  sit  at  their  desks  in  rows ; 
but  the  President  of  the  Senate,  who  is  the  Vice- 
President  of  the  United  States,  and  the  Speaker 


4A  ST0KIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

of  the  House,  sit  up  on  high  platforms  just  as  if 
they  were  teachers.  Aunt  Kate  says  they  do 
have  to  "keep  order. " 

But  what  else  do  you  think  I  saw  to  make  me 
think  of  school? 

I  know  it  will  be  Columbus  Day  when  you  get 
this  letter,  so  I'll  tell  you. 

At  the  top  of  the  high  steps  leading  to  the 
front  door  of  the  Capitol  is  a  marble  statue  of 
Columbus  holding  a  large  globe  in  his  hand. 
His  clothes  are  very  strange  looking;  but  my 
aunt  says  that  I  must  not  laugh,  for  they  were 
quite  stylish  four  hundred  years  ago. 

The  great  bronze  front  door  has  nine  pictures 
of  Columbus  on  it. 

The  first  one  shows  him  with  his  maps  and 
plans,  talking  to  the  wise  men,  who  are  laughing 
at  him,  and  telling  him  how  foolish  he  is  to  think 
that  the  earth  is  round.  But  we  know  now  that 
he  was  wise,  and  they  were  foolish. 

In  the  n^xt  one  he  is  at  the  convent  gate,  talk- 
ing to  the  priest,  who  believed  in  him  and  gave 
him  a  letter  to  Queen  Isabella.     Then  we  see  him 


BRONZE   DOOR,    CAPITOL,   WASHINGTON 


46  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

at  court,  standing  on  the  steps,  talking  to  the 
King  and  Queen,  while  all  the  people  listen. 

The  Queen  believed  in  him,  and  pledged  her 
jewels  to  buy  him  the  ships  which  are  shown 
waiting  to  take  him  on  his  long  journey. 

After  pictures  of  his  landing  on  the  island  of 
San  Salvador,  and  of  his  first  meeting  with  the 
Indians,  he  is  seen  returning  to  Spain,  and  parad- 
ing the  streets  on  horseback,  with  some  Indian 
captives  from  the  New  World  following  him. 

There  was  great  rejoicing  for  a  little  while,  but 
soon  cruel  enemies  arose ;  and  the  last  two  pictures, 
which  show  him  being  led  away,  with  chains  on 
his  hands,  to  prison  and  death,  are  very  sad. 

I  send  you  a  photograph  of  the  door,  but  I  am 
afraid  the  pictures  are  too  small  for  you  to  see 
them  well. 

I  am  going  to  the  Zoological  Park  to-morrow  to 
see  the  animals.  Papa  says  we  shall  be  home 
next  week.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  work  hard 
to  make  up  for  my  Washington  holiday. 

Your  loving  pupil, 

Henry  Miller. 


COLUMBIA,   THE   GEM   OF  THE   OCEAN  47 

COLUMBIA,  THE   GEM   OF   THE   OCEAN 

0  Columbia  !  The  gem  of  the  ocean, 
The  home  of  the  brave  and  the  free, 
The  shrine  of  each  patriot's  devotion, 
A  world  offers  homage  to  thee. 
Thy  mandates  make  heroes  assemble 
When  liberty's  form  stands  in  view, 
Thy  banners  make  tyranny  tremble 
When  borne  by  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue. 

The  star-spangled  banner  bring  hither, 

O'er  Columbia's  true  sons  let  it  wave ; 

May  the  wreaths  they  have  won  never  wither, 

Nor  its  stars  cease  to  shine  on  the  brave ; 

May  the  service  united  ne'er  sever, 

But  hold  to  their  colors  so  true ; 

The  Army  and  Navy  forever, 

Three  cheers  for  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue ! 

CHORUS 

Three  cheers  for  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue ! 
Three  cheers  for  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue ! 
The  Army  and  Navy  forever ! 
Three  cheers  for  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue ! 


48  STOKIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

HOW  THE  LEAVES  CAME  DOWN 

I'll  tell  you  how  the  leaves  came  down. 

The  great  Tree  to  his  children  said, 

"  You're  getting  sleepy,  Yellow  and  Brown. 

Yes,  very  sleepy,  little  Red, 

It  is  quite  time  to  go  to  bed." 

"  Ah  !  "  begged  each  silly,  pouting  Leaf, 

"Let  us  a  little  longer  stay; 

Dear  Father  Tree,  behold  our  grief ; 

'Tis  such  a  very  pleasant  day, 

We  do  not  want  to  go  away." 

So,  for  just  one  more  merry  day 
To  the  great  Tree  the  Leaflets  clung, 
Frolicked  and  danced,  and  had  their  way, 
Upon  the  autumn  breezes  swung, 
Whispering  all  their  sports  among,  — 

"  Perhaps  the  great  Tree  will  forget, 
And  let  us  stay  until  the  spring, 
If  we  all  beg  and  coax  and  fret." 
But  the  great  Tree  did  no  such  thing ; 
He  smiled  to  hear  their  whispering. 


"WITH  AUTUMN  LAYING  HERE  AND  THERE, 
A  FIERY  FINGER  ON  THE  LEAVES" 


HOW  THE   LEAVES   CAME   DOWN 


51 


"  Come,  children,  all  to  bed,"  he  cried; 

And  ere  the  Leaves  could  urge  their 
prayer, 

He  shook  his  head,  and  far  and  wide, 

Fluttering  and  rustling  every- 
where, 

Down  sped  the 
Leaflets 
through  <£. 

the 

air. 


I  saw 
them;  on 
the     ground 
they  lay, 
Golden  and  red,  a  huddled  swarm, 
Waiting  till  one  from  far  away, 
White  bedclothes  heaped  upon  her  arm, 
Should  come  to  wrap  them  safe  and  warm. 


52  STOEIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

The  great  bare  Tree  looked  down  and  smiled. 
" Good-night,  dear  little  Leaves/7  he  said; 
And  from  below  each  sleepy  child 
Replied,  "  Good-night/7  and  murmured, 
"  It  is  so  nice  to  go  to  bed !  " 


COLUMBIA'S   EMBLEM 
The  rose  may  bloom  for  England, 

The  lily  for  France  unfold, 
Ireland  may  honor  the  shamrock, 

Scotland,  her  thistle  bold  ; 
But  the  shield  of  the  great  Republic, 

The  glory  of  the  West, 
Shall  bear  a  stalk  of  the  tasseled  corn, 

Of  all  our  wealth  the  best. 
The  arbutus  and  the  golden-rod 

The  heart  of  the  North  may  cheer, 
And  the  mountain-laurel  for  Maryland 

Its  royal  clusters  rear, 
And  jasmine  and  magnolia 

The  crest  of  the  South  adorn ; 
But  the  wide  Republic's  emblem 

Is  the  bounteous,  golden  corn* 


MISS  AEGIOPE 


53 


MISS   ARGIOPE 

It  was  upon  a  sunny  morning  in  June  that 
Miss  Argiope  crept  from  the  egg  tuft  that  had 
hung  all  through  the  winter  upon  a  dried  fern 

leaf,  and  discovered 
herself  to  be  a  bit 
of  happy  life. 


MISS   ARGIOPE 


She  took  a  long  look  at  herself  in  a  dewdrop, 
and  was  delighted  with  what  she  saw  there.  She 
was  charmed  with  her  velvety  gown  of  black  and 


54  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

yellow,  her  eight  strong  legs,  her  many  sparkling 
eyes,  but  most  of  all  with  her  spinnerets. 

"Ah!"  she  said  with  a  happy  sigh,  "I  am 
certainly  a  pretty  spider ;  I  hope  I  shall  prove  to 
be  as  good  as  I  am  beautiful." 

Being  an  industrious  little  thing,  she  decided  to 
make  herself  a  comfortable  home,  so  she  began  at 
once  to  look  for  a  suitable  place.  Now,  the  fern 
leaf  hung  out  over  a  little  brook  that  babbled 
joyously  through  a  pleasant  meadow ;  and  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  brook  bloomed  a  large  bunch 
of  sweet  red  clover. 

"  That  is  the  very  place  I  should  like,"  thought 
Miss  Argiope.  "  It  is  sunny  and  high,  and  looks 
as  if  it  would  be  a  good  hunting-ground  for  me. 
If  I  only  had  a  bridge  !  "  Then,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  she  added  bravely,  "  I  guess  I'll  try 
building  one." 

Then  what  did  she  do  but  mount  to  the  very 
tiptop  of  the  fern  leaf,  turn  her  spinnerets  toward 
the  clover,  and  begin  spinning  a  delicate  gossa- 
mer thread !  The  kindly  breeze  caught  it  and 
carried  it  out,  out,  over  the  brook,  and  wafted  it 


MISS  AEGIOPE  55 

gently  to  and  fro  until  it  touched  the  neighboring 
bunch  of  clover. 

"  There,  that  is  done !  "  said  she,  as  she  drew  it 
taut,  and  fastened  it  firmly  to  the  fern.  Then, 
without  any  hesitation,  she  stepped  out  upon  the 
filmy  little  tight-rope,  and  in  a  moment  more  she 
was  safely  landed  upon  the  clover. 

But  now  her  work  was  just  begun,  for  she  was 
growing  hungry.  She  still  had  her  house  to 
build,  and  her  trap  to  set  for  game,  before  she 
could  dine. 

So,  fastening  a  firm  thread,  she  started  for  the 
grass  below,  trailing  the  little  line  behind  her, 
pausing  only  here  and  there  to  secure  it  to  a  leaf 
or  blade  of  grass.  Aimlessly  she  seemed  to  travel 
back  and  forth,  but  she  soon  had  a  network  of 
regular  lines  laid  over  quite  a  large  space.  After 
she  had  finished  this,  she  began  weaving  from 
spoke  to  spoke,  deftly  touching  the  spinnerets  to 
each  of  the  foundation  threads,  until  a  gauzy, 
upright  wheel  of  lace  glistened  in  the  June  sun- 
shine ;  and  lo,  her  house  was  finished  ! 

—  Adapted  from  The  Outlook. 


56  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

PERSEVERANCE 

[The  famous  soldier,  Robert  Bruce,  lived  about  six  hundred  years  ago. 
Although  he  was  King  of  Scotland,  he  had  been  driven  from  his  throne  by 
the  English ;  but  he  fought  bravely  on  till  he  won  the  freedom  of  Scotland.] 

King  Bruce  of  Scotland  flung  himself  down 

In  a  lonely  mood  to  think ; 
?Tis  true  he  was  monarch  and  wore  a  crown, 

But  his  heart  was  beginning  to  sink. 

For  he  had  been  trying  to  do  a  great  deed 

To  make  his  people  glad; 
He  had  tried  and  tried,  but  could  not  succeed, 

And  so  he  became  quite  sad. 

He  flung  himself  down  in  low  despair, 

As  grieved  as  man  could  be ; 
And  after  a  while,  as  he  pondered  there, 

"  I'll  give  it  up  !  "  cried  he. 

Now,  just  at  that  moment  a  spider  dropped 

With  its  silken  cobweb  clew ; 
And  the  king  in  the  midst  of  his  thinking  stopped 

To  see  what  the  spider  would  do. 


PERSEVERANCE  57 

'Twas  a  long  way  up  to  the  ceiling  dome, 

And  it  hung  by  a  rope  so  fine, 
That,  how  it  could  get  to  its  cobweb  home, 

King  Bruce  could  not  divine. 

It  soon  began  to  cling  and  crawl 
Straight  up  with  strong  endeavor; 

But  down  it  came  with  a  slipping  sprawl, 
As  near  to  the  ground  as  ever. 

Up,  up,  it  ran,  nor  a  second  did  stay 

To  make  the  least  complaint, 
Till  it  fell  still  lower;  and  there  it  lay 

A  little  dizzy  and  faint. 

Its  head  grew  steady,  —  again  it  went, 
And  traveled  a  half  yard  higher ; 

'Twas  a  delicate  thread  it  had  to  tread, 
And  a  road  where  its  feet  would  tire. 

Again  it  fell,  and  swung  below, 

But  up  it  quickly  mounted ; 
Till  up  and  down,  now  fast,  now  slow, 

Nine  brave  attempts  were  counted. 


58  STOKIES   OF   WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

"  Sure,"  said  the  king,  tf  that  foolish  thing 
Will  strive  no  more  to  climb, 

When  it  toils  so  hard  to  reach  and  cling, 
And  tumbles  every  time !  " 

But  up  the  insect  went  once  more; 

Ah,  me !  'tis  an  anxious  minute ; 
He's  only  a  foot  from  his  cobweb  door  — 

Oh,  say!  will  he  lose,  or  win  it? 

"  Bravo,  bravo !  "  the  king  cried  out, 
m  All  honor  to  those  who  try ! 

The  spider  up  there  defied  despair; 

He  conquered,  and  why  should  not  I?  " 

And  Bruce  of  Scotland  braced  his  mind ; 

And  gossips  tell  the  tale, 
That  he  tried  once  more,  as  he  tried  before, 

And  that  time  he  did  not  fail. 

Pay  goodly  heed,  all  you  who  read, 
And  beware  of  saying  "  I  can't." 

7Tis  a  cowardly  word,  and  apt  to  lead 
To  idleness,  folly,  and  want. 

—  Eliza  Cook. 


THOSE   FUNNY  BIRDS  59 


THOSE   FUNNY   BIRDS 


"Ha!  funny  birds,  indeed/7  laughed  Stanley, 
as  he  and  Kate  were  looking  at  some  of  the 
pictures  in  her  new  "  Third  Reader." 

"  The  birds  that  come  from  those  eggs  will 
never  have  a  feather  to  their  backs/'  he  con- 
tinued. "  They  will  wear  their  bones  outside  of 
their  bodies  instead  of  inside,  and  will  have 
four  legs  instead  of  two." 

"  They  won't  be  birds  at  all,  then,  for  birds  are 
animals  covered  with  feathers,"  replied  Kate. 

"  No,  they'll  be  mud  tortoises,  like  that  old 
one  I  caught  in  the  garden  last  year  when  I 
was  painting  the  benches  and  flower-pots. 
Don't  you  remember  the  green  cross  I  made 
on  his  back  with  my  brush  ?  " 

"  Yes,   yes !     And  when  he   came 
back    this    year,  you    painted   a 
red  one  right  over  it,  and 
made  him  a  Red  Cross 
Knight." 

"  Well,  when  he  was  those  funny  birds 


60  STORIES  OF   WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

born,  he  came  from  an  egg  just  like  one  of  these 
in  your  picture.  His  nest,  which  was  a  hole  in 
the  ground,  had  only  four  or  five  eggs  in  it;  but 
his  cousin,  the  sea-turtle,  came 
from  a  nest  in  which  there 
were  more  than  a  hundred 
.eggs. 

"  The  mother  tortoise 
leaves  her  eggs,  after 
scattering  some  loose  sand 
over  them,  and  never  thinks 
of  them  again.  But  the  sun 
and  earth  keep  them  warm 
for  about  two  months,  when 
each  baby  tortoise  cracks  his  shell  open  with  the 
horny  knob  on  the  end  of  his  snout,  and  walks 
out  to  see  what  the  great  world  is  like." 

"But  who  takes  care  of  the  poor  orphans?" 
asked  Kate. 

"  They  have  to  learn  to  look  out  for  themselves, 
just  as  many  other  young  animals  do.  They 
grow  very  slowly ;  but  as  they  belong  to  a  long- 
lived  family,  they  have  plenty  of  time  for  grow- 


THOSE   FUNNY  BIRDS 


61 


SEA-TURTLE 


ing.  Some  of 
the  great  sea- 
turtles  live  from 
one  hundred  to 
two  hundred 
years. 

"The  tor- 
toises soon  learn 
to  walk  around 
on  the  land  to  find  toadstools  and  lizards  to  eat, 
and  to  swim  in  the  water,  catching  minnows  and 
frogs;    but  if  a  bird  of  prey  tries  to  catch  one 

of  them  for  din- 
ner, the  tortoise 
quickly  shuts 
himself  up  in  his 
hard,  horny  shell, 
laughing,  '  You 
can't  catch  me 
this  time.  I'm 
too  clever  for 
you ! ' " 
snapping  turtle  <<  But  what  be- 


62  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 

came  of  your  tortoise  last  fall?"  asked  Kate. 
"I  hunted  and  hunted  all  over  the  garden  for 
him,  and  then,  though  I  had  forgotten  all  about 
him,  he  came  back  again  this  spring  with  his 
green  cross  all  covered  with  mud.  I  cannot 
imagine  where  he  hid  himself.     Can  you?" 

**  Oh,  yes!  He  went  away  to  spend  the  win- 
ter," said  Stanley.  "When  the  days  grew  cold 
and  food  became  scarce,  he  took  the  advice  of 
some  wise  old  tortoises,  who  told  him  it  was 
time  to  go  into  winter  quarters.  So  he  dug  a 
hole  in  the  ground  with  his  claws,  and  buried 
himself.  He  didn't  die ;  but  he  went  fast  asleep, 
and  waited  until  the  bright  spring  sunshine 
returned  to  warm  the  earth.  Then  he  awoke 
and  began  to  stir  himself. 

H  Don't  you  remember  it  was  spring  both  times 
that  we  found  him?  It  was  during  the  white- 
washing and  painting  season  that  he  won  his 
crosses  of  green  and  red." 


POISON   IVY 


63 


POISON   IVY 

"Be  careful  of  the  poison  ivy!"  mamma 
warned  Nell  when  she  went  to  gather  flowers 
in    the     _  W*.  woods  beyond  the  orchard. 


it  would  wear  a 

red  flag,  or  that  people  would 
put  signs,  with  '  DANGER ! '  in  great  big  letters, 
before  every  vine  in  the  woods,  just  as  they  do 
when  the  ice  is  thin  on  the  skating  pond,"  said 
Nell.  "I  can  never  tell  it  from  the  old  Virginia 
creeper  that  has  grown  over  our  porch  ever  since 
I  was  born.     They  look  just  alike,  I'm  sure." 

"  Oh,  no,  they  don't!     And  if  you  don't  want 
to  get  your  hands  all  red,  and  your  face  swollen, 


64  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

as  you  did  last  year,  I  can  tell  you  how  to  know 
when  to  run,  just  as  easily  as  I  can  count  *  One, 
two,  three  —  off  ! '  "  laughed  Fred,  who  spent 
much  time  in  the  woods,  learning  things  seldom 
found  in  books. 

"  I  wish  you  would,  then,  for  I  never  feel  safe 
when  I  go  on  a  picnic,  or  gathering  wild  flowers. 
I'm  always  afraid  I  shall  come  home  poisoned." 

"  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  look  at  the  leaves 
in  summer  and  at  the  berries  in  the  fall,"  said 
Fred.  "  If  the  leaves  have  five  fingers,  you  may 
safely  put  your  hand  on  them,  for  they  belong 
to  the  friendly  creeper;  but  if  they  have  but 
three  fingers,  you  must  not  touch  them,  for  they 
are  poison  ivy.  In  the  fall,  the  berries  of  the 
Virginia  creeper  are  red,  while  those  of  the  poison 
ivy  are  white. 

"  You  can  always  tell  the  ivy  from  the  creeper 
if  you  remember,  — 


'  Fingers  three, 
Turn  and  flee ! 
Fingers  five, 
Let  them  thrive  ! 


Berries  white, 
Poisonous  sight! 
Berries  red, 
Have  no  dread  * ' : 


THE  POISON  IVY 


POISON  IVY  67 

" That's  fine,  Fred!  I  feel  quite  safe  now. 
It  sounds  like  a  charm,  or  something.  When- 
ever I  am  in  doubt  again,  111  say, 

"  '  Eny  meny  tipsy  tee, 
Alabama  domine '  — 

"  Oh,  no !     I  don't  mean  that,  but 

" '  Fingers  three, 
Turn  and  flee  ! ' " 

corrected  Nell,  as  they  both  laughed  at  her  funny 
mistake. 

They  came  home  with  their  baskets  full  of  per- 
simmons and  bright  colored  leaves,  and  with  their 
clothes  embroidered  with  stick-tights  and  Spanish 
needles. 

Can  you  tell  what  month  it  was  when  Fred 
gave  Nell  her  botany  lesson? 


The  lands  are  lit 
With  all  the  autumn  blaze  of  golden-rod, 
And  everywhere  the  purple  asters  nod 
And  bend,  and  wave  and  flit. 

—  Helen  Hunt  Jackson. 


68  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

HIDE   AND  SEEK 

Now  hide  the  flowers  beneath  the  snow, 
And  Winter  shall  not  find  them ; 

Their  safety  nooks  he  cannot  know ; 
They  left  no  tracks  behind  them. 

The  little  brooks  keep  very  still, 

Safe  in  their  ice  homes  lying ; 
Let  Winter  seek  them  where  he  will, 

There's  no  chance  for  his  spying. 

Gone  are  the  birds ;  they're  hiding  where 

The  Winter  never  searches ; 
Safe  in  the  balmy  southern  air, 

They  sing  on  sunlit  perches. 

But  comes  the  Spring  at  last  to  look 
For  all  her  playmates  hidden, 

And  one  by  one  —  flower,  bird,  and  brook- 
Shall  from  its  place  be  bidden. 

Then  shall  the  world  be  glad  and  gay, 

The  birds  begin  their  chorus, 
The  brooks  sing,  too,  along  their  way, 

And  flowers  spring  up  before  us. 

—  Frank  Dempster  Sherman. 

Used  by  permission  of,  and  by  special  arrangement  with,  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co 


AN   OLD-TIME  THANKSGIVING  69 

AN   OLD-TIME   THANKSGIVING 

Desire  Minter,  Remember  Allerton,  and  Love 
Brewster  were  little  Pilgrim  children  wrho  lived 
in  New  England  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago. 

When  the  Pilgrims  came  from  Old  England  in 
the  " Mayflower77  to  live  in  this  new  land,  there 
were  very  few  white  people  here ;  but  there  were 
a  great  many  Indians,  who  had  always  lived  in 
this  country. 

The  Pilgrims  had  a  very  hard  time  during  their 
first  winter,  for  they  had  to  build  their  houses, 
clear  their  farms,  and  fight  the  bad  Indians. 

On  account  of  the  severe  cold,  and  scarcity  of 
food,  about  half  of  the  colony  became  sick  and 
died,  among  them  John  Carver,  their  first  governor, 
and  the  wife  of  Miles  Standish,  their  captain. 

But  in  the  year  1621  they  had  a  good  harvest, 
and  the  governor  said,  "  Let  us  set  aside  a  day  in 
which  to  give  thanks  for  the  harvest.  We  will 
invite  the  good  Indians  to  share  our  Thanksgiving 
with  us.77 

So  the  men  started  out  to  hunt  deer  and  wild 


70  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

turkeys,  while  the  women  made  pies,  cakes,  pud- 
dings, and  all  sorts  of  good  things,  for  the  great 
feast. 

The  children,  who  were  delighted  with  the 
thought  of  their  first  holiday,  helped  too,  cutting 
the  golden  pumpkins  for  pies,  and  bringing  out  the 
wild  grapes  and  plums  which  had  been  preserved. 
But  the  greatest  fun  of  all  was  popping  the  corn 
in  the  hot  ashes  in  the  big  fireplaces.  How  the/ 
did  enjoy  scrambling  across  the  room  after  each 
little  white  kernel  as  it  popped  out ! 

The  Indians  had  been  invited  to  come  on  Thurs- 
day, and  at  sunrise  that  morning  the  people  knew, 
by  the  loud  yells,  that  their  guests  had  arrived. 

It  was  in  December,  but  the  weather  was  pleas- 
ant. Long  tables  were  set,  and  a  great  fire  built 
out  of  doors.  After  breakfast  the  people  were 
called  together  by  the  beating  of  drums,  to  go  to 
church,  where  they  thanked  God  for  all  his  good- 
ness to  them  in  their  new  home. 

When  the  service  was  over,  they  found  the  feast 
ready,  —  brown,  roasted  turkeys,  white  bread,  a 
stew  with  delicious  dumplings,  baked  clams,  vege- 


AN   OLD-TIME  THANKSGIVING  71 

tables,  and  all  the  goodies  the  mothers  had  been 
making  for  days;  but  the  Indians  and  children 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  feast  more  than  any  one  else. 

This  was  the  first  Thanksgiving;  and  now  once 
a  year  the  President  of  the  United  States  asks  all 
the  people  to  go  to  church  and  give  thanks  to 
God  for  his  goodness  to  our  country. 

Less  than  a  hundred  white  people  took  part  in 
that  first  Thanksgiving,  and  it  must  have  made 
them  feel  very  lonely  to  think  they  were  so  far 
from  their  old  home  and  friends.  But  a  great 
and  powerful  nation  has  grown  from  that  brave 
little  colony  of  Plymouth ;  and  to-day,  when  we 
celebrate  our  Thanksgiving,  we  are  joined,  not 
only  by  seventy-six  million  people  in  this  broad 
land  of  ours,  but  also  by  the  new  members  of 
our  family  in  Hawaii,  Porto  Eico,  and  the 
Philippines. 

Have  we  not  cause  to  give  thanks  for  that 
noble  band  of  Pilgrim  men  and  women  who  laid 
the  foundation  of  this  great  republic,  which  is 
so  often  called  "the  land  of  the  free  and  the 
home  of  the  brave  "  ? 


72  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 

TRACKS   IN   THE   SNOW 

"Ned,  Ned!  Wake  up!  There's  been  a  jolly 
snowstorm.  The  old  woman  up  in  the  sky  must 
have  picked  all  her  geese  this  time,  for  the  snow 
is  nearly  up  to  the  top  of  the  gate-post, 77  chat- 
tered Ted  through  his  teeth,  as  he  hurried  into 
his  clothes. 

"  Come  on,  I  say !  "  he  exclaimed  as  he  gave 
Ned  a  shake.      "Let's  be  the  first  ones  out." 

But  in  spite  of  all  his  hurry,  some  one  had  been 
out  before  Ted,  —  some  one  who  did  not  have  to 
wait  to  dress,  but  who  walked  silently  over  the 
cold,  soft  snow  without  shoes  or  stockings. 

"Tracks!77  said  Ted  as  soon  as  he  spied  the 
footprints.  "  Who's  been  here,  I  wonder ! 
Wouldn't  it  be  exciting  if  it  were  a  bear?  I7d 
track  him  to  his  lair,  and  — 77 

"  Halloo  there !  What  are  you  dreaming  about, 
you  idler?  I  thought  you  were  going  to  shovel 
a  path,77  shouted  Ned,  who,  at  last  thoroughly 
awake,  came  bounding  down  the  stairs  two  steps 
at  a  time  to  join  in  the  fun. 


■pjWB  —  m  ■ 

TRACKS  IN  THE' SNOW 


TRACKS   IN   THE   SNOW  75 

"Hi!  Squirrel  tracks, "  he  said  as  soon  as  he 
spied  them.  "  Some  of  those  spry  little  red  fel- 
lows have  been  out  on  a  foraging  expedition. 
They're  smart  chaps,  I  tell  you. 

"I  don't  see  how  they  remember  where  their 
stores  are  hidden ;  but  they  always  seem  to  know 
just  where  to  go  for  the  pine  cones  and  nuts  they 
buried  in  the  fall.  It's  about  all  I  can  do 
to  keep  track  of  my  cap  and  mittens,  and  they 
are  always  somewhere  in  sight,"  he  said,  as 
he  shoveled  the  snow  and  tossed  it  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  They  are  plucky  little  creatures,  I  tell  you," 
puffed  Ted,  with  his  breath  coming  out  of  his 
mouth  like  steam.  "I'd  rather  frisk  around  in 
the  open  air,  as  they  do,  even  if  I  did  have  to 
lose  a  meal  or  two  when  the  snow  is  deepest, 
than  to  sleep  in  a  hole  in  a  tree  all  winter  long, 
as  the  gray  squirrels  do." 

"I  wouldn't,"  said  sleepy  Ned,  as  he  aimed  a 
snowball  at  his  brother's  head.  "But  I'm  ready 
for  breakfast  any  time  you  are.  Come  on;  there's 
the  bell ! " 


76 


STORIES  OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 


SQUIRREL   WAYS 

What  the  boys  said  about  the  squirrels  is  quite 
true. 

The  little  red  one,  the  chickaree,  who  takes  a 
nap  only  now  and  then  dur-  yj    ing    the    cold 

weather, 
has  his  nuts 
and     seeds 
hidden     in 
many    pan- 
tries, so  that  if 
one  is  robbed  he  can  go 

A   NUTTING   PARTY   IN   FAIRYLAND  ,  !  -r>       .      ,  i 

to  another.  But  the  gray 
squirrel  puts  all  his  stores  in  one  cupboard,  in 
a  hollow  tree,  or,  if  there  is  no  hollow  "For 
Rent,"  in  a  nest  made  of  coarse  sticks  firmly 
lodged  in  the  fork  of  a  tree.  Curling  his  bushy 
tail  over  his  back  for  a  blanket,  he  lies  down 
beside  his  treasures,  and  settles  himself  for  a 
long  winter's  nap. 

If  he  happens  to  wake  on  a  warm  day,  think- 
ing that  spring  has  come,  he  lazily  stretches  out 


SQUIEREL  WAYS 


77 


his  paw,   nibbles  a  nut,  and  falls  asleep  again 
before  he  knows  he  has  been  awake. 

He  planned  for  his  Thanksgiving  and  Christ- 
mas dinners  early  in  the  fall. 

Do  you  know  the  squirrel  in 
the  striped  overcoat  ?    His  name 
is  "Chipmunk."    In 
summer  he  is  usually 
seen  on  stone  walls 
fence-rails  near  the 

He  has  the  finest 
all  the  squirrel  tribe. 


CHIPMUNK  S    HOME 


or  on 
ground, 
home  of 
Maybe 


you  will  know  where  he  builds  it,  when  you 
hear  that  he  is  sometimes  called  the  "ground 
squirrel." 

Yes,  he  digs  a  long  channel  with  his  sharp 
little  paws,  about  a  foot  or  more  beneath  the 
surface ;  then  he  digs  out  two  rooms,  one  for  the 
pantry  and  one  for  the  nursery,  connecting  them 
by  a  narrow  hall.  The  nursery  is  well  fur- 
nished with  dried  grasses  and  leaves,  so  that 
the  babies  will  have  warm  beds.  He  usually 
makes  a  passage  leading  up  from  his  home,  as 


78 


ST0KIES  OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


well  as  down,  so  that,  if  an  enemy  comes  in  by 
one  door,  he  can  escape  by  the  other. 

Some  people  say  that   he   takes   to  a  stream 
all   the  earth   he   digs  out, 
carrying   it  in   the   pockets 
in  his  cheeks,  and  that  the 
water  will  take  it  away, 
and  tell   no   tales  of 
where    his    home    is 
hidden. 

He  can  fill  his  pan- 
try very  fast,  carrying 
four  nuts  at  a  time, 
one  in  his  paws,  one 
between  his  teeth,  and  one 
in  each  of  the  pouches  in  his 
cheeks.  He  is  very  proud  of  his  pockets,  for  he 
is  the  only  squirrel  who  has  them. 

But  the  flying  squirrel  tells  him,  "You  are 
welcome  to  your  pockets,  my  dear.  They  are  all 
well  enough  for  a  person  who  lives  in  the  ground ; 
but  I  wouldn't  give  up  my  ruffles  for  a  dozen 
pockets  in  my  cheeks.7 ' 


FLYING   SQUIRRELS 


THE  OWL  79 

The  flying  squirrel  has  to  climb  up  a  tree, 
just  as  any  other  squirrel  does;  but  he  can 
take  flying  leaps  from  the  top  of  one  tree  to 
the  foot  of  another.  He  amuses  himself  by 
running  up  and  flying  down  from  the  trees, 
and  by  springing  lightly  from  branch  to  branch, 
throwing  acorns  at  the  chipmunks  below  him. 

When  he  wants  to  fly,  he  spreads  out  the 
ruffles  of  skin  and  fur  which  connect  his  fore 
feet  with  his  hind  ones,  and  down  he  goes  as 
far  as  he  likes;  but  he  cannot  fly  up,  or  from 
side  to  side,  as  a  bird  can. 


THE   OWL 


When  cats  run  home  and  light  is  come, 

And  dew  is  cold  upon  the  ground, 
And  the  far-off  stream  is  dumb, 
And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round, 
And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round ; 
Alone,  and  warming  his  five  wits, 
The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 

—  Alfred  Tennyson. 


80  STOEIES   OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

WINTER   QUARTERS 

It  is  time  for  the  wild  creatures  of  the  woods 
to  think  of  winter  quarters  when  the  flowers  have 
gone  to  seed,  when  the  birds  have  flown  south, 
and  when  the  crickets,  beetles,  and  ants  have 
crept  into  their  houses  and  closed  the  doors. 

Puss  chooses  a  warm  place  by  the  fire,  although 
her  coat  is  thick  and  soft.  As  she  lies  there  and 
purs,  she  wonders  at  the  boys  and  girls  who 
shout  and  play  in  the  snow  and  ice.  She  doesn't 
care  for  coasting  and  skating. 

The  farm  animals  look  shaggy  and  rough  in 
their  winter  coats  of  hair  and  wool.  The  walls 
of  the  barns  and  sheds  are  made  tight  for  them, 
and  warm  beds  of  hay  and  straw  are  shaken 
down  at  night. 

But  the  other  animals  have  to  look  out  for 
themselves. 

"It's  time  I  was  in  bed,"  growls  the  bear,  who 
has  been  making  himself  so  fat  on  nuts  and  ber- 
ries that  he  can  hardly  find  a  hollow  tree  or  cave 
to  fit  him. 


»•   /           y 

lOxM     V         ^/rSK            Jil 

S.V.       k         .   . 

1 

1 

'  •  •  *    •  *,  • 

"..     "'::**'"' 

."'■ 

SNOWY   OWL 


WINTER  QUARTERS  83 

When  he  does  find  one,  he  crawls  in,  rolls  him- 
self up  in  a  furry  ball,  and  falls  into  a  deep 
sleep  which  lasts  until  spring. 

When  he  comes  out,  he  is  very  thin  and  lean. 
I  think  I  should  not  care  to  meet  him  when  he  is 
looking  for  his  first  breakfast. 

Rabbits  and  prairie  dogs  burrow  underground ; 
so  do  tortoises. 

Snakes,  which  you  know  are  cold-blooded  ani- 
mals, get  together  and  twine  themselves  in  huge 
balls  to  get  warmth  enough  to  keep  them  alive 
during  the  cold  months. 

Eels  and  frogs  plunge  under  the  mud  in  the 
bottoms  of  ponds  and  streams;  while  fish  keep 
very  close  to  the  beds  of  their  watery  homes. 

Many  of  the  animals  which  do  not  go  to  sleep 
for  the  winter  die  because  food  is  scarce,  or  be- 
cause they  are  shot  or  trapped  while  hunting  for 
it.  Some,  like  the  snowy  owl  and  ptarmigan,  are 
fortunate  in  having  winter  suits  of  white.  Some 
rabbits  also  change  their  coats.  When  they  go 
over  the  snow,  they  are  so  like  it  in  color,  that 
they  are  not  easily  seen  by  trappers  and  hunters. 


84 


STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


THE  NORTH   WIND 


KABIBONOKKA 


But  the  fierce  Kabibonokka 

Had  his  dwelling  among  icebergs. 

In  the  everlasting  snowdrifts, 

In  the  kingdom  of  Wabasso, 

In  the  land  of  the  White  Rabbit. 

He  it  was  whose  hand  in  Autumn 
Painted  all  the  trees  with  scarlet, 
Stained  the  leaves  with  red  and  yellow; 
He  it  was  who  sent  the  snowflakes 
Sifting,  hissing,  through  the  forest, 
Froze  the  ponds,  the  lakes,  the  rivers, 
Drove  the  loon  and  seagull  southward, 
Drove  the  cormorant  and  curlew 
To  their  nests  of  sedge  and  sea-tang 
In  the  realms  of  Shawondasee.  —  Longfellow. 


A  WINTER  RESIDENT  85 


A   WINTER   RESIDENT 


How  many  names  have  you,  little  boy? 

I  am  a  bird  with  more  than  three  dozen  dif- 
ferent names. 

Some  people  call  me  Flicker  or  Tar-up,  on 
account  of  my  song;  some  call  me  the  Golden- 
shafted  Woodpecker,  because  the  vanes  of  my 
feathers  are  yellow  as  gold;  while  others  call  me 
the  Yellow-hammer,  on  account  of  my  yellow 
feathers  and  my  habit  of  hammering  or  pecking 
on  trees  while  making  my  nest,  or  hunting  for 
food. 

Still  another  name  is  High-hole,  because  I 
make  the  front  door  of  my  nest  so  high  up  in 
the  tree.     I  have  forgotten  the  rest  of  my  names. 

Have  you  ever  seen  me  in  the  woods?  I  am 
not  very  shy,  and  often  I  may  be  seen  walking 
around  on  the  ground,  looking  for  ants  for  my 
dinner.  I  am  fond  of  fruits  and  of  all  insects; 
but  I  like  ants  better  than  anything  else. 

I  am  sure  I  could  never  find  enough  to  eat  if 
it  were  not  for  my  very  long  tongue,  which  goes 


86 


STORIES  OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


all  around  the  top  of  my  head,  as  you  see  in  the 
picture. 

At  the  end  of  it  there  is  a  dart,  which  I  can 
thrust  into  cracks  and  crevices  to  get  the  little 
bugs  which  hide  in  the  bark  of  trees. 


WOODPECKER    HEAD    (BILL    AND    TONGUE) 

My  mate  helped  me  peck  that  nice,  round, 
high  hole  in  the  tree.  It  leads  down  to  the 
nest  through  a  passage  as  long  as  your  arm. 

The  bottom  of  it  is  lined  with  chips,  on  which 
my  mate  lays  from  five  to  nine  pure  white  eggs. 
They  are  so  well  protected  inside  of  the  tree 
trunk  that  they  do  not  need  markings  to  help 
hide  them. 

When  our  little  ones  are  hatched,  I  shall  help 


THE  FLICKER 


A  BIRD'S   QUESTIONS  89 

my  mate  teach  them  how  to  fly,  how  to  hunt 
insects,  and  how  to  use  their  feet  in  climbing, 
turning  two  toes  in  front  and  two  behind,  as  all 
well-behaved  woodpeckers  should  do. 

I  hope  you  know  some  of  my  cousins,  —  the 
Hairy,  the  Downy,  the  Red-headed  Woodpecker, 
and  the  Sapsucker. 

We  are  all  handsome  birds;  and  though  we 
are  not  sweet  singers,  you  can  often  hear  our 
"  rat-a-tat-tat "  on  the  tree  trunks  as  you  go 
through  the  woods. 


A  BIRD'S   QUESTIONS 

Do  you  belong  to  the  Audubon  Society  ? 

Have  you  ever  fed  us  crumbs  in  winter,  when 
berries  and  seeds  were  nearly  all  gone  ? 

Have  you  ever  placed  saucers  of  water  on  your 
window-sills  for  us,  in  the  hot,  dry  days  of  sum- 
mer, when  we  have  hopped  and  flown  about,  pant- 
ing with  thirst? 

Have  you  ever  built  bird-houses,  or  put  up 
boxes,  in  which  we  may  build  our  nests  and  rear 
our  young  ? 


90  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

SHOE,   OR   STOCKING? 

In  Holland,  children  set  their  shoes, 

This  night,  outside  the  door ; 
These  wooden  shoes  Knecht  Clobes  sees, 

And  tills  them  from  his  store. 

But  here  we  hang  our  stockings  up 

On  handy  hook  or  nail ; 
And  Santa  Claus,  when  all  is  still, 

Will  plump  them,  without  fail. 

"  Speak  out,  you  Sobersides,  speak  out, 

And  let  us  hear  your  views ; 
Between  a  stocking  and  a  shoe 

What  do  you  see  to  choose  ?  " 

One  instant  pauses  Sobersides, 

A  little  sigh  to  fetch, 
"  Well,  seems  to  me  a  stocking's  best, 

For  wooden  shoes  won't  stretch." 

—  Edith  M.  Thomas. 

From  In  the  Young  World,  published  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co 


HOW   SANTA  CLAUS   TAUGHT   SCHOOL  91 


HOW   SANTA   CLAUS   TAUGHT   SCHOOL 

It  was  the  twenty-fourth  of  December. 

The  little  country  schoolhouse  was  almost  hid- 
den in  the  snow,  and  the  long  icicles  hung  down 
over  the  windows. 

The  children  were  in  no  hurry  to  get  to  school, 
for  the  ice  on  the  pond  was  firm  and  smooth ;  and 
even  after  the  first  bell  had  rung,  they  stopped  for 
just  one  slide  more. 

But  at  last,  after  enjoying  a  lively  snowball 
battle,  they  reached  the  school  door,  tired  and  out 
of  breath.  There  they  halted  in  surprise.  Could 
they  all  be  dreaming?  No,  it  was  really  true. 
At  the  desk  on  the  platform  sat  Santa  Claus,  with 
his  pack  beside  him  and  his  funny  old  spectacles 
on  his  nose. 

"  Good-morning,  children/7  he  called  cheerily. 
"I  thought  I'd  like  to  try  teaching  school  for  a 
change.     Come  right  in." 

After  the  children  had  recovered  from  their 
surprise,  and  were  all  seated,  their  new  teacher 


92  STORIES  OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

opened  school  by  teaching  them  some  bright 
Christmas  carols. 

"Now,"  said  he,  rapping  on  the  desk,  "let's 
get  to  work.  First  class  in  history,  step  up 
front." 

Poor  children !  They  never  did  know  much 
about  history,  and  on  this  bright  morning  the 
snow  and  the  thought  of  Christmas  had  made 
them  forget  even  Columbus  and  his  wonderful 
discovery. 

But  Santa  Claus  didn't  seem  to  care  about  such 
things  at  all.  Indeed,  he  said  he  wanted  them 
to  remember  only  one  date, — the  twenty-fifth  of 
December. 

Then  he  told  them  the  story  of  the  Baby  born 
in  a  stable  on  that  day  many  hundred  years  ago, 
and  taught  them  to  repeat  the  angels'  song  of 
"  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men." 

Arithmetic  came  next,  and  the  little  folks  grew 
excited  and  happy  as  they  answered  such  ques- 
tions as,  "There  are  three  stockings  on  the  right 
side  of  the  fireplace  and  two  on  the  left.  How 
many  stockings  are  hanging  up?  " 


HOW   SANTA   CLAUS    TAUGHT    SCHOOL 


94  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

He  gave  harder  problems  to  the  older  children, 
asking  them  the  cost 

of  a  20  lb.  turkey  @  15  P  a  pound, 
of  2  qt.  of  cranberries  @  5^  a  pint, 
of  3  bunches  of  celery  @  5^  a  bunch, 

and  ever  so  many  other  things  about  a  Christmas 
dinner. 

Some  of  the  children  were  sent  to  work  exam- 
ples at  the  blackboard.  Ezra  had  one  in  long 
division,  but  he  was  so  excited  he  got  it  all 
wrong. 

A  lesson  on  birds  followed,  the  children  tell- 
ing many  different  stories  about  their  feathered 
friends,  but  all  agreeing  that  the  most  useful  bird 
in  the  world  is  the  turkey. 

"Now  for  a  good  old-fashioned  spelling-match, " 
said  Santa  Claus.  "  Choose  your  sides,  boys  and 
girls,  and  we'll  see  how  well  you  can  spell.77 
These  are  some  of  the  words  he  gave  them :  — 


doll 

horn 

Christmas 

drum 

turkey 

plum  pudding 

stocking 

mince  pie 

cranberries 

HOW   SANTA   CLAUS   TAUGHT   SCHOOL  95 

This  wonderful  new  teacher  then  had  a  geogra- 
phy lesson,  in  which  he  showed  them,  on  a  map, 
the  shortest  way  to  reach  his  home  at  the  North 
Pole,  and  told  them  of  the  many  strange  sights 
they  would  see  on  the  road. 

Then,  calling  another  class,  Santa  Claus  said, 
"We  will  now  have  a  short  lesson  in  botany.77 

The  children  had  never  heard  of  this  hard 
name  before ;  but  when  they  found  that  it  meant 
only  the  study  of  plants,  trees,  and  flowers,  they 
were  not  so  frightened. 

The  boys  ran  over  into  the  woods,  coming 
back  in  a  few  moments  with  branches  of  dif- 
ferent evergreens,  about  which  they  talked,  each 
telling  which  one  he  thought  would  make  the 
best  Christmas  tree. 

Then,  out  of  his  pack,  Santa  Claus  took  needles 
and  thread,  and  set  the  girls  to  work  making 
dresses  for  their  dollies,  while,  with  tools  from 
the  same  magic  sack,  he  showed  the  boys  how 
to  build  a  chimney  large  enough  for  him  to  get 
down  easily. 

"Now,    children/7    said    Santa,    "run    to    the 


96  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

blackboards,  and  each  one  draw  a  picture  of 
what  he  would  like  to  find  in  his  stocking  to- 
morrow morning/7 

In  a  few  minutes  the  blackboards  were  filled 
with  pictures  of  all  kinds  of  toys. 

As  they  turned  to  go  to  their  seats,  they  heard 
the  merry  jingle  of  sleigh-bells,  and  a  jolly  voice 
called  out,  "  Good-by,  little  folks  !  Merry  Christ- 
mas to  all!  "  Then  they  knew  that  their  queer 
new  teacher  had  left  them  to  dismiss  themselves. 

But  when  they  looked  into  their  stockings  on 
Christmas  morning,  they  found  exactly  the  same 
toys  whose  pictures  they  had  drawn  on  the  black- 
board the  day  before. 

It  was  indeed  a  Merry  Christmas  for  all  of 
Santa  Claus's  pupils. 


I  heard  the  bells  on  Christmas  Day 
Their  old,  familiar  carols  play, 

And  wild  and  sweet 

The  words  repeat 
Of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men ! 

—  Longfellow. 


THE   BEAVEK  97 


THE   BEAVER 


The  beaver  is  the  master  builder  among  the 
animals,  and  his  winter  home  is  the  best  on  the 
stream,  although  the  Hotel  Muskrat  is  a  very  fine 
stopping-place  when  days  are  cold,  and  food  is 
scarce. 

Do  you  see  the  beaver's  chest  of  tools?  He 
never  mislays  one  of  them.  His  strong  teeth- 
chisels  are  always  in  his  mouth,  ready  to  gnaw 
anything,  from  a  twig  to  a  tree  trunk ;  his  sharp 
claw-shovels  are  always  in  place  for  digging; 
while  his  broad  flat  tail  is  convenient  for  pound- 
ing down  sticks  and  twigs  in  building  his  dam 
and  lodge. 

His  tail  serves  also  as  a  rudder  when  he 
swims. 

Perhaps,  because  the  skins  of  some  of  his 
ancestors  sold  at  one  time  for  sixteen  dollars 
apiece,  the  beaver  feels  that  he  can  afford  two 
homes,  —  a  summer  as  well  as  a  winter  one. 

The  spring  and  early  summer  are  spent  on 
land,  in  a  nest  dug  out  of  the  bank,  high  enough 


98  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 

above  the  water  to  prevent  it  from  being  flooded 
when  the  spring  freshets  come.  But  in  August 
the  entire  family  takes  to  water  life  again. 

Beaver-town  is  then  a  busy  place.  If  th& 
stream  in  which  the  family  has  decided  to  build, 
is  not  deep  enough  to  prevent  freezing  in  the 
winter,  a  dam  has  to  be  made. 

Usually  many  beavers  live  in  the  same  stream, 
and  work  together  in  building  the  dam ;  but  each 
family  lives  in  its  own  separate  lodge  or  hut. 

The  beavers  which  go  for  timber  sometimes 
select  trees  five  or  six  inches  thick.  With  no 
other  tools  than  their  strong  teeth,  they  gnaw 
and  cut  deep,  wedge-shaped  gashes,  first  on  one 
side  of  the  tree,  then  on  the  other,  until  it  falls. 

Cutting  it  to  suit  their  uses,  they  carry  the 
pieces,  between  their  fore-paws  and  chins,  to  the 
stream,  and  float  them  down  to  the  place  where 
the  dam  is  to  be  built. 

The  huts,  which  are  dome-shaped  and  often 
four  or  five  feet  high,  are  made  of  stones,  sticks, 
and  mud  firmly  packed  together  by  pounding 
strokes  of  the  strong,  flat  tails. 


THE   BEAVER 


THE  BEAVER  101 

When  the  mud  and  water  freeze,  the  walls 
become  strong.  Vegetable^,  roots  of  water 
plants,  bark  of  poplar  and  other  trees,  gathered 
during  the  summer,  are  stored  in  the  hut;  and 
the  family  is  safely  housed  for  the  winter,  with 
no  fear  of  any  one  except  man  —  who  wants 
beaver-fur  for  capes,  muffs,  and  gloves  —  or  the 
wolverine,  which  wants  beaver-meat  to  eat. 


THE   BEAVER'S    RELATIONS    HAVE   A   WORD   TO   SAY 

We  are  all  the  beaver's  relations.     Yes,  we  are 
proud  to  say  it. 

Do  you  not  see  that  we  have  the  same  kind  of 
teeth  that  he  has?  Our  teeth  do  not  run  straight 
around  our  jaws,  as  yours  do,  little  boys  and  girls.' 
We  have  two  long  chisel-shaped  teeth  in  the  front 
of  each  jaw,  with  a  little  space  between  them  and 
our  back  teeth.  Our  chisel-shaped  teeth  are 
called  incisors,  and  our  back  teeth,  molars. 

We  all  gnaw  our  food,  so  you  may  call  us  "  The 
Gnawers/7  if  you  wish. 

Squirrel    Porcupine     Woodchuck 
Rabbit        Muskrat       Chipmunk 


102  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

£\\  Ul  fl  ^'^ASfilJff ETON'S   BIRTHDAY 

'Tis  splendid  to  live  so  grandly, 

That,  long  after  you  are  gone, 
The  things  you  did  are  remembered 

And  recounted  under  the  sun ; 
To  live  so  bravely  and  purely, 

That  a  nation  stops  on  its  way, 
And  once  a  year,  with  banner  and  drum, 

Keeps  the  thoughts  of  your  natal  day. 

'Tis  splendid  to  have  a  record 

So  white  and  free  from  stain, 
That,  held  to  the  light,  it  shows  no  blot, 

Though  tested  and  tried  amain ; 
That  age  to  age  forever 

Eepeats  its  story  of  love, 
And  your  birthday  lives  in  a  nation's  heart 

All  other  days  above. 

And  this  is  Washington's  glory, 

A  steadfast  soul  and  true, 
Who  stood  for  his  country's  honor 

When  his  country's  days  were  few ; 


WASHINGTON'S   BIETHDAY  103 

And  now,  when  its  days  are  many, 

And  its  flag  of  stars  is  flung 
To  the  breeze  in  defiant  challenge. 

His  name  is  on  every  tongue. 

Yes,  it's  splendid  to  live  so  bravely, 

To  be  so  great  and  strong, 
That  your  memory  is  ever  a  tocsin 

To  rally  the  foes  of  the  wrong ; 
To  live  so  proudly  and  purely, 

That  your  people  pause  in  their  way, 
And  year  by  year,  with  banner  and  drum, 

Keep  the  thoughts  of  your  natal  day. 

—  Margaret  E.  Sangster. 


Washington  was 

first  in  war, 
first  in  peace, 
and  first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen. 


SOME   FEBRUARY   BIRTHDAYS 

George  Washington  —  February  22,  1732. 

Abraham  Lincoln  —  February  12,  1809. 

Henry  Wads  worth  Longfellow — February  27, 1807. 


104  STORIES   OF   WOODS  AND   FIELDS 

BUTTERFLIES   AND   MOTHS 

Wings  !     Wings !     Wings ! 

Did  you  know  there  were  so  many  different 
kinds  needed  to  carry  little  creatures  through  the 
air? 

Feather-winged  birds,  lace-winged  dragon  flies, 
straight-winged  grasshoppers,  and  horny-winged 
beetles ! 

Can  you  think  of  any  more  ? 

The  smooth,  velvety  wing  of  the  butterfly  and 
the  furry  wing  of  the  moth  are  both  made  of  tiny 
scales,  which  overlap  one  another  like  the  shingles 
on  the  roof  of  a  house. 

They  get  their  beautiful  colors  from  the  way  in 
which  the  light  falls  upon  them. 

How  many  different  colors  have  you  seen  on 
the  wings  of  butterflies  and  moths? 

Have  you  ever  seen  live  insects  like  those  in 
the  picture  ? 

One  is  a  butterfly,  the  other  a  moth. 

Sometimes  it  is  hard  to  tell  them  apart,  but 
here  are  a  few  rules  to  help  you. 


. 


BUTTERFLY 


"THE  SUNSHINY    BUTTERFLIES   COME   AND    GO, 
LIKE  BEAUTIFUL  THOUGHTS  MOVING   TO  AND  FRO.' 


BUTTERFLIES   AND   MOTHS  107 

Butterflies  have  slender  bodies  covered  with 
fine  hairs ;  whereas  moths  have  thick  bodies  cov- 
ered with  coarse  hairs,  like  fur. 

Butterflies  have  knobs  at  the  ends  of  the 
antennaa  or  feelers;  but  moths  have  feather-like 
feelers. 

Butterflies  raise  their  wings  when  resting ;  but 
moths  rest  with  their  wings  spread.  The  upper  and 
lower  wings  of  some  moths  are  fastened  together. 

Butterflies  fly  by  day,  moths  by  night. 

The  butterfly  caterpillars  seldom  spin  silken  co- 
coons, but  you  know  those  of  the  moth  frequently 
do. 

The  silk  for  hair-ribbons,  neckties,  and  dresses, 
comes  from  the  cocoons  of  moth  caterpillars. 


The  long-mantled  moths  that  sleep  at  noon 
And  dance  in  the  light  of  the  mystic  moon, 
And  the  sunshiny  butterflies  come  and  go 
Like  beautiful  thoughts  moving  to  and  fro. 
And  not  a  wave  of  their  busy  wings 
Is  unknown  to  the  Spirit  that  moveth  all  things. 

—  George  Macdonald. 


108  STORIES  OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

PAUL'S   QUEER   PETS 

"I  wonder  what  is  in  it!  "  cried  Paul,  as  the 
postman  gave  him  a  package  addressed  to  him 
self.  "  Perhaps  Uncle  Philip  has 
sent  me  some  more 
shells   from   Florida." 

But  when  he  opened 
the  box,  he  almost  let 
it  fall,  as  he  cried, 
"  Snakes!"  in   a   tone  paul's  package 

that  quickly  brought  his  big  brother  to  his  side. 

"  Snakes,  indeed !  "  said  John,  as  he  looked  at 
two  slender,  little  wriggling  creatures.  "Look  at 
their  legs  !  These  are  lizards.  They  won't  hurt 
you." 

Paul  took  them  out  carefully,  and  put  them  on 
the  window-sill.  They  were  nearly  the  same 
color  as  the  brown  wood ;  but  while  he  was  look- 
ing at  them,  they  scampered  up  on  some  plants 
in  the  window. 

Again  Paul  called  out,  "Oh,  look,  John!  See, 
they  have  turned  green !  " 


PAUL'S   QUEER  PETS  109 

He  was  right,  for  now  the  new  pets  matched 
the  green  leaves  as  nearly  as  they  had  matched 
the  brown  wood  a- few  minutes  before. 

Paul  soon  found  that  his  lizards  always  turned 
leaf  color  when  among  the  plants,  and  wood  color 
when  on  wood  or  sand,  and  by  watching  he 
learned  the  reason  why. 

When  flies  and  other  insects  came  buzzing 
about  the  window,  they  did  not  know  the  lizards 
were  near,  until  "  Snap  !  "  out  would  come  a  slen- 
der, forked  tongue,  and  the  insect  would  be  gone 
in  a  twinkling. 

"  What  fine  flytraps  they  make  !  "  said  Paul.  "  I 
wish  we  had  some  more  of  them  !  " 

"  Perhaps,  if  you  look  care- 
fully when  you  are  out  walk- 
ing, you  may  find  some  lizard 
eggs,"  said  John;  "for  lizards 
are  found  here,  as  well  as  in 
Florida."  PET  LIZARD 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  fun  to  get  a  few  of  them, 
and  watch  them  hatch?"  asked  Paul.  "I  am 
going  to  look  for  some." 


110  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

MORE   ABOUT   PAUL'S   PETS 

Although  he  looked  carefully,  Paul  was  not 
able  to  find  any  lizard  eggs  ;  but  one  day  John 
shouted,  "0  Paul,  see  here!  I  have  brought  you 
some  company  for  your  lizards.  Come,  see  how 
you  like  him.77 

The  visitor  was  a  queer-looking  animal,  with 
short,  thick  legs,  and  a  broad,  flat  body  covered 
with  little  scales  that  looked  like  horns.  There 
were  horns  on  his  head,  too,  yet  he  was  not  a 
very  fierce-looking  creature. 

What  do  you  suppose  he  was  ? 

The  box  in  which  he  came  was  marked 
"  Horned  Toad : 77  so  Paul  said,  "  Perhaps  that  is 
his  visiting  card.77 

But  John  said  that  he  was  not  a  toad  at  all,  but 
another  member  of  the  lizard  family,  although  he 
looked  so  unlike  the  rest  of  them. 

One  thing  that  Paul  soon  found  out  was  the 
new  pet7s  fondness  for  flies;  but  his  tongue  was 
thick,  and  not  nearly  so  nimble  as  the  lizard7  s. 

In  other  ways,  the  cousins  were  alike.     They 


MORE  ABOUT  PAUL'S  PETS 


111 


were  both  covered  with  scales,  and  both  had  five 
toes,  with  little  claws,  on  each  foot. 

"  See  how  much  like  the  earth,  the  toad's 
spotted,  brownish-gray  skin  looks ! "  said  John. 
"  Wouldn't  you  have  a  hard  time  finding  him  on 


MEXICAN 

<?>     HORNED    TOAD 


HORNED   TOAD 


the  ground?      He  is  wonderfully  well  protected 
by  his  color." 

"  Yes,"  said  Paul.  "  I  suppose  the  insects  which 
come  in  his  way  think  he  is  only  a  bit  of  rough 
brown  earth,  and  so  they  are  easily  caught.     But 


112  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

his  spiny  scales  make  him  a  tough  mouthful  for 
the  creatures  who  try  to  eat  him.'7 

One  day  Paul  hastily  caught  one  of  the  lizards 
by  the  tail;  but  the  little  animal,  not  liking  such 
treatment,  jerked  himself  free  and  ran  off,  leaving 
his  tail  in  Paul's  fingers. 

How  sorry  the  boy  was !  The  lizard,  too,  looked 
very  uncomfortable ;  but  in  a  short  time  a  new  tail 
grew.  It  was  a  little  different  from  the  old  one  ; 
but  the  lizard  didn't  seem  to  mind  that,  and  soon 
was  as  happy  as  ever. 

But  a  stranger  thing  even,  then  happened  to 
his  other  pet. 

Catching  the  toad  quickly,  to  show  to  one  of 
his  friends,  Paul  was  surprised  at  a  jet  of  blood 
that  was  shot  at  him  from  the  toad's  eyes.  Paul 
afterward  learned  from  a  book  that  the  people  of 
Mexico  call  these  creatures  "  sacred  toads,"  and 
hold  them  in  reverence,  because  they  think  it  so 
wonderful  for  them  to  weep  tears  of  blood. 

Paul  was  very  careful  with  the  toad  after  that, 
saying,  "I  don't  want  him  to  weep  any  more 
tears  of  blood  for  me." 


'#  *3 

j&               1    *^  ; 

Mi 

!% 

**■&* 

*  -K 

.'  ">\ 

"THE  LILAC  TOSSED  A  PURPLE  PLUME' 


WAITING  FOE  MAY  115 


WAITING  FOR  MAY 


From  out  his  hive  there  came  a  Bee  : 

"  Has  springtime  come,  or  not?  "  said  he. 

Alone,  within  a  garden  bed, 

A  small  pale  snowdrop  raised  its  head ; 
"  'Tis  March,  this  tells  me/7  said  the  Bee; 
"  The  day  is  cold,  although  'tis  sunny, 
And  icy  cold  this  snowdrop's  honey." 

Again  came  humming  forth  the  Bee : 

"  What  month  is  with  us  now?"  said  he. 

Gay  crocus  blossoms,  blue  and  white 

And  yellow,  opened  to  the  light ; 
"  It  must  be  April,"  said  the  Bee ; 
"  Til  taste  these  flowers  (the  day  is  sunny), 
But  wait  before  I  gather  honey." 

Once  more  came  out  the  waiting  Bee : 

"  "Tis  come !    I  smell  the  spring !  "  said  he. 
The  violets  were  all  in  bloom, 
The  lilac  tossed  a  purple  plume, 
The  daffodils  wore  a  yellow  crown, 
The  cherry  tree  a  snow-white  gown, 


116  ST0KIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

And  by  the  brookside,  wet  with  dew, 
The  early  wild  wake-robins  grew ; 
"  It  is  the  May  time  !  "  said  the  Bee, 
"  The  queen  of  all  the  months  for  me  ; 
The  flowers  are  here,  the  sky  is  sunny, 
?Tis  now  my  time  to  gather  honey. " 

—  Marian  Douglass. 


THE   COW 


The  friendly  cow  all  red  and  white, 

I  love  with  all  my  heart ; 
She  gives  me  cream  with  all  her  might 

To  eat  with  apple  tart. 

She  wanders  lowing  here  and  there, 

And  yet  she  cannot  stray, 
All  in  the  pleasant  open  air, 

The  pleasant  light  of  day. 

And  blown  by  all  the  winds  that  pass, 
And  wet  with  all  the  showers, 

She  walks  among  the  meadow  grass, 
And  eats  the  meadow  flowers. 

—  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


BAKING  DAY  IN   THE  HIVE  117 

BAKING  DAY  IN  THE  HIVE 

The  willow  catkins  down  by  the  gate  were 
heavy  with  pollen. 

"  The  alder  by  the  river 
Shook  out  its  powdery  curls." 

Poplars  fluttered  their  tassels  and  the  bloodroot 
spread  her  petals  wide. 

All  seemed  to  be  expecting  something  to  happen. 

Soon  there  was  a  great  flutter  and  buzzing  as  a 
swarm  of  worker  bees  came  out  of  a  hive  near  by. 

Away  they  flew  to  the  willows,  alders,  and  pop- 
lars, begging  for  the  golden  powder  which  their 
flowers  had  to  give. 

This  powder,  which  is  called  "  pollen,"  is  the 
flour  which  the  bees  use  in  making  beebread. 

The  winter  had  been  so  long  and  cold  that  they 
had  eaten  nearly  all  of  their  bread. 

They  wanted  to  make  some  more  for  the  young 
bees. 

The  flowers  welcomed  them  joyously. 

Such  busy  bees ! 

They  were  dusty  with  pollen,  which   covered 


118  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

their  backs,  legs,  and  heads.  But  they  scraped  it 
all  off  carefully  with  their  feet,  packed  it  in  little 
round  balls,  and  stored  it  away  in  the  market  bas- 
kets which  they  carry  on  their  hind-legs. 

Back  and  forth  they  flew  many  times. 

When  they  reached  the  hive,  they  emptied  their 
baskets  on  the  doorstep,  and  flew  away  again. 

The  bees  in  the  hive  gathered  in  the  golden 
flour,  mixed  it  with  honey,  and  packed  it  away  in 
the  cupboard-cells. 

Do  you  think  you  would  like  a  taste  of  bee- 
bread  ? 

It  is  very  bitter,  but  the  bees  like  it. 

They  feed  on  it  during  the  long  winter,  when 
there  are  no  flowers  to  give  nectar  for  making 
honey. 

I  would  rather  eat  sweet  honey  than  bitter  bee- 
bread.     Wouldn't  you  ? 

"  A  swarm  of  bees  in  May 
Is  worth  a  load  of  hay  ; 
A  swarm  of  bees  in  June 
Is  worth  a  silver  spoon ; 
But  a  swarm  of  bees  in  July 
Isn't  worth  a  fly." 


BEES    SWARMING 


120 


STORIES   OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


A  fat  frog  sat  on  a  stone  near  the  water's  edge. 

A  flower  on  the  bank  swayed  suddenly  forward. 

"Croak!  croak!  There  is  a  breeze  coming/7 
said  the  frog. 

"  Oh,  no!  It  is  your  weight,  Busy  Bee,  which 
drags  low  the  heads  of  our  flowers.  Stay  a 
moment  for  a  little  talk." 

The  bee's  wings  quivered  for  a  moment  as  it 
buzzed,  "  To-day  we  are  building  a  cell  for  our 
new  queen.     I  cannot  stay." 

"  But  how  —  "  the  frog  began.  But  it  was  too 
late,  for  the  bee  had  flown. 

"  Silly  brown  bug!"  he  croaked.  "A  queen 
indeed!" 

The  bee  was  already  entering  the  hive. 

"Buzz!  buzz!     See,  it  is  finished." 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful?  "  buzzed  the  other  bees. 


THE  NEW  QUEEN 


121 


Hanging  from  one  edge  of  the  comb  was  a  long, 
thimble-shaped  cell  built  of  wax. 

It  was   very  different   from 
the   cells   of    the   drones        v 
and  workers. 

"  Quick!     Bring  the 
royal  jelly/7  f^fe 

This  was  to  feed  —  not 
the    queen,    but    the    little 
white    grub   which   was   to 
hatch  from  the  egg. 

The  grub  had  to  spin  a  cocoon  around  itself, 
and  wait  twenty-one  days  before  it  grew  into  a 
queen  bee,  with  a  long  slender  body  and 
gauzy  wings. 

One   morning,   the  whole  hive  shook 
with  fright. 

From  the  new  cell  came  a  long,  sharp 
sound. 

This   was  to   let   the    other  bees 
know  that  the  new  queen  was  ready 
to    come   out   of   her  cell  to   rule  over 
the  hive. 


122  STOEIES  OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

As  there  can  be  but  one  queen  in  a  hive  at  a 
time,  the  old  queen  sorrowfully  prepared  for  flight. 

Many  faithful  bees  gathered  around  to  follow 
her. 

Out,  far  out,  they  flew,  until  they  found  a  tree 
in  which  was  a  large  hollow. 

Here  they  formed  a  new  hive,  but  many  of  the 
bees  stayed  in  the  old  home  with  the  new  queen. 


Some  one  has  called  a  bee's  home  a  castle  of 
wax.  Do  you  think  that  is  a  good  name  for  it, 
and  do  you  want  to  know  where  the  bees  get  the 
wax  to  make  the  comb  which  holds  the  honey 
you  like  so  well? 

They  make  it  themselves.  After  eating  a  great 
deal  of  honey,  many  of  them  hook  themselves 
together  by  their  legs,  and  hang  in  a  cluster  or 
curtain.  Soon,  scales  of  wax  come  out  of  the 
little  pockets  in  their  abdomens. 

It  is  with  these  scales  that  they  build  the  six- 
sided  cells  which  hold  their  stores  of  honey  and 
beebread,  and  which  make  the  nurseries  of  the 
baby  bees. 


THE  BLUET 


123 


THE   BLUET 


Guess  where  I  saw  a  Fairy 
Bluet  to-day. 

I   know.      You   saw  it   on   a 
sunny  hillside. 

Yes,  there  it  was,  whispering 
to  the  Bloodroot  and  the  Violet 
about  the  sunshine  and  the  spring- 
time, and  nodding  to  its  neighbors 
the  Hepatica  and  Spring  Beauty. 

As  Rock  Creek  sparkled  by,  Bluet 
gave  a  bright 
little  nod,  and 
said,  "I  am  out  to  see  the  other 
flowers.  I  want  to  smell  the 
spring  odors,  and  hear  the  birds. 
Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me  again  ? 
I  have  been  away  for  a  whole 
year.'7 

•The  Creek  laughed  a  little  wel- 
come, and  ran  on;  but  I  stayed 
with  the  Baby  Bluet. 


BLOODROOT 


124 


STORIES  OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


I  knew  that  tiny  rootlets 
soft  as  silk  were  holding  it 
fast  to  the  ground,  and  I 
could  see  the  slender  deli- 
cate stem  lifting  the  sweet 
star-like  flower  up  for  me 
to    look    into   its   bright 
face. 

Gay,  brave  little  Bluet, 

I  hope  you  will  come  with 

the   other    spring    flowers 

every    year    in    the    soft 

April  weather.     You  may  be  sure  that  you  will 

always  be  welcome.     . 


11  If  you  find  a  starry  bluet 
Brave  with  looking  at  the  sky, 
With  a  mad  March  wind  to  woo  it, 
And  a  rock  to  shelter  by, 
Just  nod  blithely,  boldly,  to  it 
As  you're  passing  by  the  place ; 
Just  nod  frankly,  as,  if  you  knew  it, 
It  will  laugh  up  in  your  face." 


CLOVERS 
CLOVERS 


125 


*4r 


.1W2 


The  clovers  have  no  time  to 

play; 

They  feed  the  cows,  and  make 
the  hay, 

And   trim   the   lawns,  and  help 
the  bees, 
Until  the  sun  sinks  through  the  trees. 

And  then  they  lay  aside  their  cares, 
And  fold  their  hands  to  say  their  prayers, 

And  drop  their  tired  little  heads, 
And  go  to  sleep  in  clover  beds. 

Then,  when  the  day  dawns  clear  and  blue, 
They  wake  and  wash  their  hands  in  dew, 


126  STOEIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

And  as  the  sun  climbs  up  the  sky, 
They  hold  them  up  and  let  them  dry, 

And  then  to  work  the  whole  long  day ; 
For  clovers  have  no  time  to  play. 

—  Helena  Leeming  Jelliffe, 

By  permission  of  The  Outlook. 


ARBUTUS 


Oft  have  I  walked  the  woodlands  brown 
Without  the  blest  foreknowing, 

That  underneath  the  withered  leaves 
The  fairest  flowers  were  growing. 

To-day  the  south  wind  sweeps  away 
The  types  of  autumn's  splendor, 

And  shows  the  sweet  arbutus  flowers, 
Spring's  flowers  fair  and  tender. 

—  Frederick  W.  Faber. 


THE  TREE   TOAD 


127 


THE   TREE   TOAD 

In  the  early  days  of  spring  a  tree-toad  concert 
is  a  pleasant  thing  to  hear. 

Farmers  say  that  the  band  plays  loudest  just 
before  rain :  so  you  see  the  tree  toad  is  some- 
thing of  a  weather    ^  prophet. 

you    suppose    tree    toads 
high    in    the   world    as 


How     do 
ever  get  up  so 
the     treetops  ? 
surely;    they 
too    apt    to 

To  find  the 
their  climb-  ^ 
must  take  a 
their        fingers 


Those       little 
pads  act  as  suckers 
If  you  have  ever  tried  to 
or  a  piece  of  glass  with  a  bit 
leather,  you  will  understand 

With  four  suckers  on  his  fingers,  and  five  on 
his  toes,  each  tree  toad  can  hang  upside  down 


Not  by  hopping, 
would     be 
fall. 

secret   of 

ing,     you 

look     at 

and  toes. 

round,  sticky 

or    holders. 

lift  a  brick 

of  moistened 

all  about  it. 


128 


STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 


on  the  smooth  under  sur- 
faces of  leaves. 

This  makes  him  dan- 
gerous to  the  small  in- 
sects on  which  he  feeds. 

They   do  not  think  it 
is  playing  fair  for  him  to 
stand  on  his  head  and  thrust 
out  his  slender  tongue  to  catch  them, 
when  they  are  not  expecting  to  see  him. 

But  this  is  only  one  of  his  tricks. 
Another  one  is  changing  his  color  to  help 
hide  himself  from  enemies  who  like  to  eat  him  as 
much  as  he  likes  to  eat  insects. 
He  can  change  his  suit  of 
clothes  from  green  to  gray, 
and  back  again,  as 
quickly  and  as  often 
as  he  chooses. 

What  color  do  you 
suppose  he  wears  when 
he  is  hiding  away  among 
the  green  leaves  ? 


THE   OATEN  PIPE  129 

On  a  dead  stump  or  an  old  fence  covered  with 
lichens,  he  is  a  very  different  looking  creature. 

Do  you  think  your  eyes  would  be  sharp  enough 
to  see  him  there,  if  he  sat  very  still,  with  his  legs 
drawn  up  under  him  ? 

I  believe  that  most  people  would  think  him 
only  a  knot  of  wood. 


THE   OATEN   PIPE 


When  the  musical  piping  frogs 

Begin  to  croak  and  chant 
In  the  marshes  and  in  the  bogs, 

In  many  a  sweet  spring  haunt, 

I  think  of  the  legend  hoary 

Which  little  Dutch  folk  recite,  — 

How  the  nightingale's  soul,  says  the  story, 
Enters  a  frog  in  its  flight. 

And  so,  when  I  hear  the  weird  catch 
Where  the  frogs  alone  take  part, 

I  fancy  I  sometimes  snatch 

A  strain  from  the  nightingale's  heart. 

—  Mary  Newmarch  Prescott. 


130  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

SASSAFRAS   MITTENS 

The  pine  tree  has  its  needles, 

The  maple  has  its  keys, 
The  ash  tree's  seeds  are  paddles ; 

But  tell  me,  what  are  these  ? 

Nasturtiums  with  umbrellas 
To  shield  them  from  the  light, 

And  pitcher  plants  with  pitchers 
To  catch  the  raindrops  bright. 

The  alder  with  its  tassels 

Which  gleam  like  golden  curls, 

And  sassafras  with  mittens 
For  little  boys  and  girls. 

Green  ones  in  the  summer, 

And  yellow  in  the  fall. 
Come,  help  yourselves,  dear  children  ; 

There  are  enough  for  all. 


A  PAIR  OF  MITTENS 


THE  PROUD   BUCKWHEAT  133 

THE   PROUD   BUCKWHEAT 

[Every  child  loves  Andersen's  fairy  tales,  but  I  wonder  how  many 
children  know  anything  about  the  man  who  wrote  those  interesting  stories. 
Hans  Christian  Andersen  was  born  almost  a  century  ago,  in  the  far-away 
country  of  Denmark.  He  was  very  fond  of  children,  and  wrote  principally 
for  them.  His  fairy  tales  are  read  by  the  little  folks  of  his  own  country, 
and  have  been  translated  into  almost  every  language  of  Europe.] 

Very  often,  after  a  violent  thunder-storm,  a 
field  of  buckwheat  appears  blackened  and  singed, 
as  if  a  flame  of  fire  had  passed  over  it.  The 
country  people  say  that  this  appearance  is  caused 
by  lightning ;  but  I  will  tell  you  what  the  Spar- 
row says,  and  the  Sparrow  heard  it  from  an  old 
willow  tree  which  grew  near  a  field  of  buckwheat, 
and  is  there  still. 

It  is  a  large  venerable  tree,  though  a  little  crip- 
pled by  age.  The  trunk  has  been  split,  and  out 
of  the  crevice  grow  grass  and  brambles.  The  tree 
bends  forward  slightly,  and  the  branches  hang 
quite  down  to  the  ground,  just  like  green  hair. 
Grain  grows  in  the  surrounding  fields,  not  only 
rye  and  barley,  but  oats  —  pretty  oats,  that,  when 
ripe,  look  like  a  number  of  little  golden  canary 


134  STOKIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

birds  sitting  on  a  bough.  The  corn  has  a  smiling 
look ;  and  the  heaviest  and  richest  ears  bend  their 
heads  low,  as  if  in  pious  humility. 

Once  there  was  also  a  field  of  buckwheat,  and 
this  field  was  exactly  opposite  to  the  old  willow 
tree.  The  buckwheat  did  not  bend  like  the  other 
grain,  but  erected  his  head  proudly  and  stiffly  on 
the  stem.  "I  am  as  valuable  as  any  other  grain/7 
said  he,  "•  and  T  am  much  handsomer.  My  flowers 
are  as  beautiful  as  the  bloom  of  the  apple  blos- 
som, and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  look  at  us.  Do  you 
know  of  anything  prettier  than  we  are,  you  old 
willow  tree?  " 

And  the  willow  tree  nodded  his  head,  as  if  he 
would  say,  "  Indeed,  I  do !  " 

But  the  buckwheat  spread  himself  out  with 
pride,  and  said,  "  Stupid  tree !  He  is  so  old  that 
grass  grows  out  of  his  body." 

There  arose  a  very  terrible  storm.  All  the 
field  flowers  folded  their  leaves  together,  or  bowed 
their  little  heads,  while  the  storm  passed  over 
them ;  but  the  buckwheat  stood  erect  in  his  pride. 

!?  Bend  your  head  as  we  do,"  said  the  flowers. 


THE  PKOUD   BUCKWHEAT  135 

"I  have  no  occasion  to  do  so/7  replied  the 
buckwheat. 

"  Bend  your  head  as  we  do/7  cried  the  ears  of 
corn.  "The  angel  of  the  storm  is  coming;  his 
wings  spread  from  the  sky  above  to  the  earth 
beneath.  He  will  strike  you  down  before  you 
can  cry  for  mercy.7 7 

"  But  I  will  not  bend  my  head/7  said  the 
buckwheat. 

"  Close  your  flowers,  and  bend  your  leaves/7 
said  the  old  willow  tree.  "  Do  not  look  at  the 
lightning  when  the  cloud  bursts :  even  men  can- 
not do  that.  In  a  flash  of  lightning,  heaven 
opens,  and  we  can  look  in ;  but  the  sight  will 
strike  even  human  beings  blind.  What,  then, 
must  happen  to  us,  who  only  grow  out  of  the 
earth,  and  are  so  inferior  to  them,  if  we  venture 
to  do  so?77 

"  Inferior,  indeed !  77  said  the  buckwheat. 
"  Now,  I  intend  to  have  a  peep  into  heaven.77 
Proudly  and  boldly  he  looked  up,  while  the  light- 
ning flashed  across  the  sky  as  if  the  whole  world 
were  in  flames. 


136  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

When  the  dreadful  storm  had  passed,  the  flow- 
ers and  the  corn  raised  their  drooping  heads  in 
the  pure,  still  air,  refreshed  by  the  rain ;  but  the 
buckwheat  lay  like  a  weed  in  the  field,  burnt  to 
blackness  by  the  lightning. 

The  branches  of  the  old  willow  tree  rustled  in 
the  wind,  and  large  water  drops  fell  from  his 
green  leaves,  as  if  the  old  willow  were  weeping. 
Then  the  Sparrow  asked  why  he  was  weeping 
when  all  around  seemed  so  cheerful.  "See," 
he  said,  "how  the  sun  shines,  and  the  clouds 
float  in  the  blue  sky!  Do  you  not  smell  the 
sweet  perfume  from  flower  and  bush?  Where- 
fore do  you  weep,  old  willow  tree  ?  "  Then  the 
willow  told  him  of  the  haughty  pride  of  the 
buckwheat,  and  of  the  punishment  which 
followed. 

This  is  the  story  told  me  by  the  Sparrow  one 
evening,  when  I  begged  him  to  relate  some  tale 

tO  me.  —  Hans  Christian  Andersen. 


Pride  goeth  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty 
spirit  before  a  fall.  —proverbs. 


BUNNY  AND  THE  EASTER  EGGS  137 

BUNNY   AND   THE   EASTER   EGGS 

The  poultry-yard  in  the  shop-window  seems  a 
strange  place  to  see  so  many  rabbits,  but  every 
year  at  Easter  time  we  find  them  sitting  among 
the  gayly  colored  eggs,  looking  as  proud  as  if  they 
had  laid  them  all. 

But  a  bunny  never  laid  an  egg  in  its  life. 

This  is  a  rabbit  story  which  grandmammas  used 
to  tell  the  little  German  children  long,  long  ago. 


TRAILING    ARBUTUS 


Once  upon  a  time,  Spring  came  into  the  coun- 
try very  late  in  the  year. 

Winter  had  stayed  so  long  that  everything 
looked  dead.  'No  grass,  no  leaves  on  the  trees, 
no  flowers,  no  birds,  no  children  in  the  woods 
looking  for  flowers. 


138 


ST0KIES  OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


"This  will  never  do,"  said  Spring.  "I  must 
get  to  work." 

So  she  walked  along  over  the  ground,  trailing 
her  long  robe  behind  her.    Wher- 
ever  she    stepped,  the    grass 
grew  green. 

Now  and  then  she  stooped 
down,    and   touched   a  bare 
spot  of  earth,  and  up  came  the 
fair  spring  flowers,  —  the  arbu- 
tus, bluet,  anemone,  saxifrage, 
and  all  the  rest.    She  threw  her 
arms  up,  and  touched  the  bare 
branches  of  the  trees.     Leaves  grew  at  once. 

Then  she  sang,  —  oh !  such  sweet  songs  that  the 
robins,  bluebirds,  cardinals,  bobolinks,  and  war- 
blers came  flying  back  from  the  south  to  hear  her. 
Soon  they  were  building  nests,  and  laying  eggs. 
Then  Spring's  house-cleaning  was  over ;  so  she 
sat  down  to  rest.     But  she  soon  grew  lonesome. 

"Where  are  all  the  children?"  she  asked. 
"  Why  don't  they  come  out  of  the  city  to  the 
beautiful  country  to  see  me,  to  hear  my  birds 


WOOD   ANEMONE 


BUNNY  AND  THE  EASTER  EGGS  139 

sing,  and  to  gather  my  lovely  pink,  white,  blue, 
and  yellow  flowers? 

"  I  am  afraid  they  don't  know  I  am  here.  I'll 
send  a  message  to  them.7' 

So  she  sang  to  the  birds,  — 

"Bluebird,  catbird,  robin,  wren, 
Tell  the  children  I'm  here  again." 

But  the  birds  said,  "  We  are 
busy,  0  Spring !   building  our 
nests,  and  laying  eggs.  We  can- 
not go.     Ask  the  rabbit. " 

But  Bunny  said  he  was  afraid 
of  the  city  with  its  noise,  afraid 
of  dogs,  of  men  with  guns,  and  of  boys  with  sticks. 

But  Spring  said,  "At  night  the  city  is  quite 
still ;  men,  boys,  and  dogs  are  all  asleep.  Won't 
you  go  then?  Your  ears  are  so  long  you  can 
hear  the  least  sound,  and  you  hop  so  fast  no  one 
can  catch  you." 

So  Bunny  agreed  to  meet  Spring  at  the  foot  of 
the  red  maple,  late  at  night. 

She  made  a  basket  of  grass  and  straw,  which 
she  decorated  with  feathers  and  flowers.     In  this 


SAXIFRAGE 


140  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

she  packed  some  blue  eggs  the  robins  gave  her, 
some  brown  ones  from  the  wrens,  some  spotted 
ones  from  the  cardinals,  sparrows,  and  chicka- 
dees, and  some  pure  white  ones  from  the  wood- 
peckers' deep  holes  in  the  trees. 

When  Bunny  came  to  the  red  maple,  Spring 
tied  the  basket  on  his  back. 

"  Now  be  careful  of  the  eggs/7  she  said,  "  and 
when  you  come  to  a  house  where  children  live, 
you  must  tear  some  of  the  straw  from  your  bas- 
ket, and  make  a  tiny  nest  on  the  doorstep.  Put 
in  just  one  feather,  just  one  flower,  and  just  one 
egg,  and  when  you  have  been  all  around,  hop  back 
to  the  woods  as  fast  as  you  can. 

"When  the  children  see  the  beautiful  colored 
eggs  you  have  brought  them,  they  will  clap  their 
hands  and  shout,  '  Spring  has  come !  We  know 
by  the  message  she  has  sent  us.  See  the  flowers 
and  the  Easter  eggs ! ' 

"  Then  they  will  know  I  am  waiting  to  welcome 
them  to  the  woods ;  and  I  will  tell  them  it  is 
you  whom  they  must  thank,  for  without  you  they 
would  have  had  no  Easter  eggs  this  year." 


THE  EASTER  BUNNY 


THE   EMPTY   CRADLES 


143 


On  the  leaf  an  empty  cradle 
swings, 
While  the  baby  butterfly  waves 
its  wings, 

Like  a  rose  leaf  bright  that  the  wind  has  blown, 
Or  a  handful  of  sunshine  caught  and  thrown. 
0  baby  butterfly !  out  in  the  sun, 
Of  all  earth's  children  the  daintiest  one, 
Do  you  think  you  could  fold  those  radiant  wings, 
And  creep  back  to  bed  where  the  cradle  swings 
Where  the  empty  cradle  swings? 


Birds  and  butterflies  are  not  the  only  creatures 
which  leave  their  empty  cradles  in  the  fields  and 
woods. 

Come  with  me  to  the  brier  patch,  which  was 
white  with  flowers  in  the  early  summer,  and 
black  with  juicy  berries  in  August. 


144  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

Look  carefully  at  those  curious  swellings  on  the 
stems ;  some  of  them  are  red,  and  others  brown. 
Do  you  see  the  little  holes  which  look  like  pin- 
pricks ? 

Each  of  those  knots  or  swellings  was  the  cradle 
of  some  tiny  gnats. 

While  the  stems  were  green  and  tender,  the 
mothers  pierced  them,  and  laid  their  eggs  inside 
of  them.  But  they  also  put  in  some  poison, 
which  made  the  stem  sw^ell  around  the  eggs. 
There  the  young  grubs  were  born ;  these  changed 
to  little  gnats,  which  flew  out  through  the  holes 
you  see.  Each  hole  was  a  gnat's  door  from  its 
nursery  to  the  warm  sweet  air. 

Now  come  to  the  field  of  golden-rod.  Does 
every  stem  wave  a  yellow  plume?  Who  can  find 
one  which  bears  a  hard  ball  of  leaves? 

Cut  it  open ;  but  be  careful,  as  a  baby  may  be 
in  the  cradle. 

Yes,  there  he  is,  a  little  yellow  grub.  If  we  had 
not  disturbed  him,  he,  too,  would  have  grown  into 
a  gnat  with  gauzy  wings. 

The  red  spongy  balls  on  the  rosebush,  and  the 


THE  EMPTY  CRADLES  145 

green  or  brown  ones  on  the  oak  trees,  are  all 
gnat  cradles  too. 

They  are  called  *f  galls/7  and  the  little  creatures 
they  have  rocked  and  sheltered  are  called  "  gall- 
gnats." 

See  how  many  empty  cradles  you  can  find  in 
the  autumn,  when  the  leaves  have  fallen  from 
the  trees  and  bushes.  You  may  be  able  to  see 
some  curious  ones  on  the  willows. 

Nature  has  many  secrets  which  sharp-eyed 
boys  and  girls  may  discover. 


There  are  notes  of  joy  from  the  hangbird  and  wren, 
And  the  gossip  of  swallows  through  all  the  sky ; 

The  ground  squirrel  gayly  chirps  by  his  den, 
And  the  wilding  bee  hums  merrily  by. 

The  clouds  are  at  play  in  the  azure  space, 

And  the  shadows  at  play  on  the  bright  green 
vale ; 

And  here  they  stretch  to  the  frolic  chase, 
And  there  they  roll  on  the  easy  gale. 

—  William  Cullen  Bryant. 


146  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

IN   THE   MEADOW 

The  meadow  is  a  battlefield 

Where  Summer's  army  comes, 
Each  soldier  with  a  clover  shield, 

The  honey  bees  with  drums. 
Boom,  rat-ta !  they  march  and  pass 

The  Captain  Tree,  who  stands 
Saluting  with  a  sword  of  grass, 

And  giving  them  commands. 

'Tis  only  when  the  breezes  blow 

Across  the  woody  hills, 
They  shoulder  arms,  and,  to  and  fro, 

March  in  their  full-dress  frills. 
Boom,  rat-ta !  they  wheel  in  line, 

And  wave  their  gleaming  spears  ; 
11  Charge  !  "  cries  the  Captain,  giving  sign. 

And  every  soldier  cheers. 

But  when  the  day  is  growing  dim, 
They  gather  in  their  camps, 

And  sing  a  good  thanksgiving  hymn 
Around  the  firefly  lamps. 


THE  FAINT-HEARTED   MOUSE  147 

Rat-tat-ta !  the  bugle  notes 

Call  "  Good-night  "  to  the  sky ; 

I  hope  they  all  have  overcoats 
To  keep  them  warm  and  dry. 

—  Frank  Dempster  Sherman. 

By  permission  of  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Co. 


THE   FAINT-HEARTED   MOUSE 

A  timid  little  mouse  lived  in  the  house  of  a 
great  magician.  The  poor  creature  was  in  con- 
stant fear  of  the  cat,  and  had  not  a  moment's 
peace. 

The  magician,  taking  pity  on  the  mouse,  turned 
it  into  a  cat.  Then  it  suffered  for  fear  of  the  dog. 
To  cure  this  fear,  the  magician  turned  it  into  a 
dog.  Then  it  trembled  for  fear  of  the  tiger.  The 
magician  changed  it  into  a  tiger ;  but  it  at  once 
began  to  tremble  for  fear  of  the  hunters. 

"  Be  a  mouse  again  !  "  cried  the  magician  in 
disgust.  "You  have  the  heart  of  a  mouse,  and 
cannot  be  helped  by  wearing  the  body  of  a  nobler 
animal." 


148  3T0KIES   OF  WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

EDNA'S   CHEWINKS 

Edna  was  spending  her  vacation  in  an  old- 
fashioned  house  on  the  Hudson  River,  not  far 
from  the  Catskill  Mountains. 

Sometimes  she  sat  in  the  summer-house  with  a 
book  which  told  her  stories  of  the  river,  of  Hen- 
drick  Hudson  and  his  dwarfs,  and  of  dear  old  Rip 
Van  Winkle. 

But  the  stories  she  liked  best  to  read  were 
found  in  Nature's  book  called  "  Out-of -Doors." 

She  did  not  have  to  sit  still  to  read  that,  for 
she  could  turn  its  pages  while  running,  hopping, 
or  skipping  about  the  farm,  while  driving  through 
the  woods,  or  sailing  on  the  river,  or  while  chas- 
ing the  butterflies,  salting  the  sheep,  milking  the 
cows,  or  shooing  the  young  turkeys  to  roost. 

One  day,  while  resting  on  some  logs  in  the 
chip-yard,  after  a  long  run,  she  heard  some  one 
whistle,  "  Che  wink  !  chewink  !  " 

Pretty  soon  an  answer  came  from  a  high  tree, 
4  Chewink  !  chewink  !  chewink  !  "  She  waited  to 
hear  more. 


CHEWINKS 


After  A  udubon 


EDNA'S   CHEWINKS  151 

Soon  there  came  a  little  song  which  sounded  to 
her  like,  "  Chuck-bur,  pill-a-will-a-will-a !  " 

"  That's  strange!"  thought  Edna.  "But  I 
know  it  is  bird  talk,  so  I'll  sit  quite  still 
and  listen. " 

"  Che  wink!  chewink  !  che — >"  but,  before  the 
whistle  was  finished,  a  bird  darted  from  a  tree 
down  into  a  low  bush  not  far  from  where  the 
little  girl  was  sitting. 

"  Chewink  !  chewink  I  chewink  !  chewink  !  " 
Still  the  whistle  came  from  above  her  head. 
Again  and  again  the  woods  rang  with  it. 

"There  are  two  birds;  they  must  be  mates/7 
thought  the  little  girl.  "  I  shall  watch  for  the 
one  in  the  bush." 

She  waited  patiently  and  very  quietly  for  a 
long  time,  but  at  last,  as  she  could  neither  see 
nor  hear  anything  of  the  bird  in  the  bush,  she  got 
up  and  walked  toward  it. 

41  Whir!  whir  !  "  With  a  rush  of  wings  a  bird 
flew  almost  into  her  face,  and  there,  directly  on 
the  ground,  was  a  nest  with  four  eggs  in  it,  white 
ones  speckled  with  brown. 


152  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

Oh,  how  happy  the  little  girl  was !  But  the 
mother  bird  was  not  so  happy.  She  kept  making 
a  sharp  "  Chip !  chip !  "  with  her  bill,  as  if  to  say, 
"  Go  away!  go  away!"  while  the  father  bird, 
high  up  in  the  tree,  cheerily  called,  "  This  is  a 
nice  little  girl.     Don't  worry  !  don't  worry!  " 

"  I  won't  tell  a  soul,"  said  Edna,  as  if  making 
a  promise  to  the  parents. 

Day  after  day  she  visited  the  nest.  On  the 
tenth  morning  she  found  that  the  four  eggs 
had  changed  to  four  young  birds  with  yellow- 
rimmed,  gaping  mouths,  but  without  a  feather 
on  their  little  naked  bodies,  and  with  thin  films 
of  skin  over  their  eyes,  which  had  not  yet  opened. 

"  Poor  wee  things !  you  seem  to  be  nothing  but 
mouths,"  murmured  Edna.  "  I  think  you  do  not 
want  any  company  to-day.  I'll  run  away,  so  that 
your  mother  and  father  can  come  to  feed  you. 
I  won't  let  any  one  know  you  are  here,  either. 
Good-by !     Good-by !  " 

But  the  birds  were  too  young  to  say  even 
"  Peep !  peep !  "  to  her. 


NEW  CLOTHES  153 

NEW   CLOTHES 

These  are  not  very  pretty  pictures,  but  they  show 
how  the  chewinks  looked  the  day  they  were  born. 

Edna,  who  had  often  been  in  the  barn- 
yard when  the  little  chicks  came  out  of 
their  shells,  all  covered  with  fluffy 
yellow  down,  was  very  much  dis- 
appointed to  find  the  chewink 
babies  so  homely. 

She  expected  them  to  wear  suits  of  black  and 
russet  trimmed  with  white,  like  their  father's,  or, 
at  least,  to  dress  in  two  shades  of  brown, 
as  their  mother  did. 
She  told  the  secret  of  the  new 
neighbors  in  the  chip-yard  to  her  mother, 
and  asked  why  the  young  birds  were  not 
as  pretty  as  Biddy's  cunning  little  chicks. 
Her  mamma  told  her  she  must  be  patient ;  that 
birds  which  stayed  in  their  nests  until  they  learned 
to  fly,  had  to  wait  longer  for  their  feathers  to  grow 
than  the  birds  which  were  ready  to  run  and  hunt 
for  food  as  soon  as  they  came  out  of  the  eggs. 


154  STOEIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

She  showed  Edna  these  pictures,  telling  her, 
"In  a  few  days  your  chewinks  will  be  covered 
with  down ;  and,  later,  feathers  will  grow  from 
all  the  places  marked  by  the  dots,  and  will 
spread  over  the  bare  spots,  covering  them  all 
up.  You  can  see  where  the  feathers  grew  on 
any  chicken  or  bird  that  has  been  plucked. 

"But  you  must  not  expect  birds'  clothes  to  last 
forever.  They  wear  out  just  as  your  dresses  do. 
Once  a  year  the  birds  molt,  and  lose  their  old 
frayed  and  ragged  feathers;  but  new  ones  grow 
right  out  of  the  pockets  in  their  skins. 

"So  do  not  worry  about  the  chewinks,  for  they 
will  be  as  handsome  as  their  parents  by  the  time 
they  are  two  or  three  years  old." 


I  thought  the  sparrow's  note  from  heaven, 
Singing  at  dawn  on  the  alder-bough ; 
I  brought  him  home,  in  his  nest,  at  even ; 
He  sings  the  song,  but  it  pleases  not  now ; 
For  I  did  not  bring  home  the  river  and  sky ; 
He  sang  to  my  ear  —  they  sang  to  my  eye. 

—  Ralph  Waldo  Emersos; 


MARTHA'S  POLLIWOG  155 

MARTHA'S   POLLIWOG 

Dear  Mr.  Butterman, — 

Please  bring  me  some  of  the  moss  you  have  in 
your  pond,  the  next  time  you  come  to  town.  I 
want  it  for  my  fish  globe.  I  shall  be  very  much 
obliged  to  you.  Vefy  truly> 

Martha. 

This  is  how  Martha  came  to  learn  many  strange 
things. 

When  the  butterman  brought  the  moss,  neither 
he  nor  Martha  knew  that  there  were  some  tiny 
eggs  hidden  among  the  green  leaves.  Each  one 
looked  like  the  head  of  a  black  pin  covered  with 
a  soft,  sticky  white  substance. 

How  pretty  the  fish  globe  was  with  its  little 
stone  castle,  the  long  graceful  moss,  and  gold  and 
silver  fish ! 

"Mamma,  mamma!"  cried  Martha  one  day,  as 
she  was  watching  the  goldfish  swim  in  and  out 
of  the  castle  doors.  "What  are  all  these  little 
black  things  wriggling  around  in  my  fish  globe? 


156  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AKD  FIELDS 

I  shall  have  to  take  them  out,  or  they  will  hurt 
my  fish." 

"  Leave  one  in,  Martha:  I  promise  you  it  will 
do  no  harm.  Leave  just  one,  to  see  what  will 
happen."  She  left  one  in ;  but  each  day  she  ran 
to  her  fish  globe,  always  fearing  the  funny  little 
creature. 

She  watched  it  grow,  until  it  was  almost  as 
large  as  her  precious  goldfish.  It  changed  from 
black  to  a  brownish  color.  Its  large  eyes  seemed 
to  pop  at  her,  while  its  long  tail  kept  the  water 
dancing  all  the  time. 

"  What  shall  I  call  it,  mamma? " 

"  Just  Polliwog,"  said  mamma  with  a  smile. 

By  this  time,  Martha  was  very  curious  about 
her  "  Polly,"  as  she  called  it.  It  had  grown  quite 
large  and  fat. 

One  day  she  called,  "  Mamma!  mamma!  Polly 
has  something  growing  oat  of  its  body.  I  believe 
it  is  a  pair  of  hind  legs.  Where  did  they  come 
from?" 

But  the  polliwog  only  opened  its  large  mouth 
wider,  and  popped  its  great  eyes  a  little  more. 


*    *> 


THE  STORY  OF  A  FRQO  J*»5 


MAKTHA'S   POLLIWOG  159 

Soon  afterward,  when  Martha  was  giving  her 
pets  their  breakfast,  she  saw  something  which 
almost  made  her  put  her  little  pink  nose  into  the 
water. 

u  The  polliwog  seems  to  have  grown  smaller 
in  the  middle  of  its  body/'  Martha  thought.  "  I 
wonder  what  will  happen  next.  I  really  believe 
it  is  getting  arms.     Yes,  and  fingers  too !  " 

Just  then  the  little  polliwog  swam  past  her,  as 
if  to  show  off. 

"You  ought  to  be  a  very  good  swimmer,  my 
dear,  with  four  webbed  feet  and  a  long  tail." 

A  few  days  later  Martha  went  to  make  a  short 
visit  to  her  grandmother.  When  she  came  home, 
her  first  thought  was  of  her  goldfish  and  her 
polliwog. 

It  was  a  warm  June  day,  and  the  blinds  had 
been  closed  to  keep  out  the  sun. 

"What  is  that  queer  noise  that  goes  'Plink! 
plunk !'"  thought  Martha,  as  she  opened  the 
blind  to  let  in  the  light. 

What  do  you  suppose  she  saw  ? 

On  the  tiptop  of  the  castle,  high  out  of  the 


160  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

water,  sat  a  very  fat  green  creature  with  no  tail 
at  all. 

"  Where  is  Polly  ?"  said  Martha.  "  Surely  that 
cannot  be —  But,  oh,  yes  it  is !  "  she  cried.  "  I 
know  it  by  its  big  eyes  looking  right  into  mine. 

11  Oh,  you  funny  polliwog!  you  are  only  a  frog, 
after  all!  " 

But  the  frog  only  blinked,  and  dived  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  globe  with  a  queer  "  Plink ! 
plunk !  " 

Martha  soon  found  that  the  frog  did  not  like 
fish  food,  so  she  gave  it  flies  to  eat ;  and  when  the 
summer  vacation  came,  she  gave  it  to  the  butter- 
man  to  take  back  to  the  pond  in  the  country. 
But  Martha  remembers  her  pet,  and  will  tell  you 
many  strange  things  about  it,  if  you  go  to  see  her 
some  day. 

Sing  a  song  of  seasons, 
Something  bright  in  all ; 
Flowers  in  the  summer, 
Fires  in  the  fall. 

—  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


THE  FLOWER  PARADE 


161 


THE   FLOWER   PARADE 

It  had  been  a  joyful  day  for  wee  Elsie. 

Dressed  all  in  white,  with  gauzy  wings  on  her 
shoulders,  a  golden  star  in  her  hair,  and  a  wand 

in  her  hand,  she  had 
been  a  fairy  in  the 
coaching     parade, 


THE    FLOWER    PARADE 


which  occurs  every  year  in  the  little  mountain 
village  where  she  spends  her  vacation. 

There  were  ever  so  many  coaches  in  the  proces- 
sion !  Some  of  them  were  so  beautifully  trimmed 
with  flowers,  that  one  could  not  see  even  the 
spokes  of  the  wheels.  It  was  curious  to  see  how 
an  everyday  carriage  could   be  changed   into   a 


162  STOKIES   OF  WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

beautiful  white  water  lily,  into  a  yacht  with  gleam- 
ing sails,  or  into  some  other  shape,  by  the  use  of 
flowers  and  ribbons. 

The  fairy  coach  had  won  the  prize,  for  it  was 
the  most  beautiful  of  them  all.  It  was  covered 
with  white  satin,  and  drawn  by  six  white  horses, 
whose  harnesses  and  reins  had  been  wrapped 
with  white  ribbon. 

Don't  you  wish  you  had  seen  it  ? 

But  best  of  all,  on  top  of  the  coach  a  white-cov- 
ered platform  had  been  built  for  a  dozen  fairy 
maidens  dressed  just  as  Elsie  was. 

Their  Queen  rode  inside,  smiling,  and  waving 
her  wand  at  all  the  people  as  she  passed;  but 
none  of  them  changed  to  birds  or  beasts,  as  the 
people  in  some  of  the  fairy  tales  do,  for  she  was 
a  gracious  queen. 

They  had  such  a  happy  day !  But  when  night 
came,  poor  Elsie  was  so  tired  that  she  had  to  be 
carried  upstairs  to  bed ;  and  although  she  was 
asleep  as  soon  as  her  curly  head  touched  the  pil- 
low, she  went  right  off  to  another  procession  —  in 
her  dreams. 


ELSIE'S   DREAM 

ELSIE'S   DREAM 

In  her  dream  Elsie  seemed 
to  be  out  of  doors, 


163 


with 

the  mountains, 

the  fields,  the  woods,  and 

the  sunshine  all  around  her ;   and 

she  herself 


seemed  to  be 
the  fairy  Queen, 
sitting  on  a  white 
throne,  before  which 
passed  a  procession 
of  the  seasons. 


164  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 

Led  by  Spring,  came  the  drooping  snowdrops; 
the  crocus  fairies  in  purple,  yellow,  and  white ; 
red  and  yellow  tulips;  hyacinths  and  bluebells 
on  their  way  to  the  city  gardens ;  while  their 
little  country  cousins  —  the  bloodroot,  bluet,  saxi- 
frage, spring  beauty,  and  violet  —  turned  off  to 
the  woods  to  weave  beautiful  patterns  in  the 
new  carpet  of  grass  which  had  just  been  spread 
on  the  ground. 

As  they  passed  out,  a  band  of  music  sounded 
in  the  tree-tops  from  robins,  bluebirds,  sparrows, 
wrens,  and  warblers  just  back  from  the  sunny 
South. 

The  Queen  waved  her  wand,  and  Summer  came 
in,  with  buttercups  and  daisies  from  the  fields, 
and  with  pansies,  lilies,  roses,  geraniums,  sun- 
flowers, hollyhocks,  and  all  the  sweet  garden 
flowers  with  their  bright  colors  and  sweet  odors. 

Elsie  could  not  call  them  all  by  name,  there 
were  so  many  of  them ;  but  she  smiled  as  they 
passed  before  her,  and  waved  her  wand  for  some 
music. 

All   the   gurgling   brooks,   laughing   rills,    and 


ELSIE'S  DKEAM  165 

tinkling  streams,  burst  into  song;  while  grass- 
hoppers, katydids,  and  crickets  played  on  their 
fiddles. 

Again  she  waved  her  wand. 

A  tall  fairy  came,  wearing  a  wreath  of  asters 
and  a  cloak  of  autumn  leaves,  and  carrying  a 
wand  of  golden-rod  in  her  hand. 

A  band  of  Brownies  followed  her  with  sheaves 
of  grain  and  baskets  of  fruit ;  while  some  frisky 
squirrels  ran  along  beside  her,  drawing  a  chariot 
filled  with  nuts. 

"  Music !  "  called  the  Queen ;  and  all  the  winds 
began  to  play  loud,  blustering  tunes,  shaking  the 
leaves  from  the  trees,  and  whirling  them  through 
the  air  like  birds  set  free  from  cages. 

They  passed,  and  for  the  last  time  the  Queen 
waved  her  magic  wand. 

Some  little  elves  ran  in,  and  spread  a  white 
carpet  for  the  evergreens. 

Spruces,  hemlocks,  cedars,  pines,  and  firs  came 
tramping  by,  like  an  army  of  soldiers,  with  sharp- 
pointed  spears.  Many  of  them  were  on  their  way 
to  market  to  become  Christmas  trees. 


166  STORIES   OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

Holly  trees  with  bright  red  henries,  and  oaks 
already  trimmed  with  mistletoe,  came  next,  while 
crowfoot  trailed  along  the  ground. 

For  them  there  was  no  song  of  bird,  or  chirp- 
ing of  insect ;  the  streams  were  frozen  hoarse ; 
but  the  voices  of  children  shouting  with  glee  on 
the  ice  and  snow  and  around  the  Christmas  tree, 
or  singing  sweet  Christmas  carols,  seemed  to  our 
little  sleeping  fairy  Queen  the  sweetest  music 
of  all. 


PICTURE-BOOKS   IN   WINTER. 

Summer  fading,  winter  comes, 
Frosty  mornings,  tingling  thumbs, 
Window  robins,  winter  rooks, 
And  the  picture  story-books. 

How  am  I  to  sing  your  praise, 
Happy  chimney-corner  days, 
Sitting  safe  in  nursery  nooks, 
Reading  picture  story-books ! 

—  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 


THE  RUBY-THROATED  HUMMING   BIRD 


167 


THE   RUBY-THROATED   HUMMING   BIRD 


The  ruby-throat  is  one  of  the  tiniest,  daintiest 
birds  in  the  world. 

It  almost  seems  to  be  a  fairy  as  it  hovers  over 
the  flowers,  with  its  wings  all  in  a 
flutter,  and  its  throat  gleam- 
ing like  a  jewel  in  the  sun- 
shine. 

It   is   a   fearless    creature, 
too.    See  how  bravely  it  rests 
on  the  lady's  finger.     I  have 
heard  of  humming  birds  which 
were  so  tame  that  they  would  eat  sugar  held  be- 
tween the  lips  of  those  who  had  been  kind  to  them. 

Is  it  not  a  fine  thing  to  be  able  to  make  friends 
with  the  birds  ? 

When  you  see  the  humming  bird  fluttering 
around  the  garden,  it  is  usually  hunting  for  food. 
With  its  long  bill  it  is  able  to  probe  the  deepest 
flower  cups  for  nectar  and  insects. 

Have  you  ever  visited  a  humming  bird  in  its 
home? 


THE    RUBY-THKOAT 


168 


STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND   FIELDS 


One's  eyes  must  be 
very  sharp  to  find 
its  little  house,  for 
it  looks  more  like 
a  knot  on  the  tree 
than  a  nest. 
It  is  round  and 
cup-shaped,  being  made 
of  the  finest  dandelion, 
thistle,  or  poplar  down, 
trimmed  on  the  outside  with 
bits  of  gray  and  green  lichen, 
and  fastened  to  the  branch  by  spider- 
webs  wrapped  round  and  round  the  branch  so 
that  the  wind  cannot  blow  the  little  home  away. 

In  the  nest  the  mother  bird  lays  two  small, 
pure  white  eggs,  each  about  the  size  of  a  bean. 

When  the  little  hummers  are  hatched,  they  have 
to  stay  in  the  nest  until  their  feather  clothes  grow. 
Their  first  suits  are  dull  brownish  green,  like  their 
mother's;  but  as  they  grow  older,  they  change 
these  for  brighter  green  ones,  like  their  father's, 
with  beautiful  red  collars. 


"IS  IT  A  GEM,  HALF   BIRD, 
OR  IS  IT  A  BIRD,  HALF  GEM?' 


A  HUMMING  BIRD  171 

While  the  little  ones  are  in  the  nest,  the  mother 
feeds  them  in  a  very  queer  way.  She  moistens 
and  softens  the  insect  food  in  her  crop,  and  then 
puts  her  beak  into  the  mouths  of  the  babies,  who 
suck  the  softened  food,  just  as  a  real  baby  sucks 
milk  from  a  bottle. 

There  is  no  room  for  the  father  bird  in  the  nest, 
so  he  stays  away  from  home  leaving  the  care  of 
the  babies  to  the  faithful  little  mother. 


A  HUMMING  BIRD 


If  you  watch  its  fluttering  poise, 
From  palpitant  wings  will  steal 

A  hum  like  the  eerie  noise 
Of  an  elfin's  spinning-wheel. 

And  then  from  the  shape's  vague  sheen 
Quick  lusters  of  blue  will  float, 

That  melt  in  luminous  green 
Round  a  glimmer  of  ruby  throat. 

—  Edgar  Fawcett. 


172  STOEIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

THE   FIELD   FAIRIES 

My  dolly  and  I  came  walking  to-day 

Out  here  in  the  pleasant  weather, 

And  you'll  never  believe  what  helped  us  play 

In  the  sunny  fields  together. 

My  dolly,  the  dear,  just  stared  and  stared, 

But  never  a  word  was  saying, 

When  the  fairies  came  for  a  grand  surprise, 

And  helped  us  with  our  playing. 

And  one  of  them  climbed  a  tree  so  tall 

It  took  him  more  than  an  hour ; 

But  I  know  you  called  him  a  golden  bug, 

And  the  tree  was  a  purple  flower. 

And  two  of  them  sat  in  the  tree  above, 

And  talked  in  tones  so  ringing 

That  dolly  and  I  both  understood  ; 

But  you  thought  it  the  bluebird  singing. 

And  one  put  on  a  mantle  of  gold, 

And  fluttered  and  flew  above  us ; 

But  you  thought,  instead  of  a  fairy  bright, 

'Twas  a  butterfly  come  to  love  us. 


THE  MELD  FAIKIES  173 

And  the  yellow  leaf  with  the  crimson  edge  — 
Did  you  think  it  could  do  no  better 
Than  fall  ?     Why,  the  fairy  hid  in  the  tree 
Had  sent  us  the  leaf  for  a  letter. 

And  there  were  fairies  hidden  away 
In  the  heart  of  the  crimson  flower, 
And  when  they  saw  us,  they  ran  and  hid 
In  a  dear  little  grassy  bower ; 
So  we  were  afraid  to  roll  our  ball, 
For  then  we  might  make  a  blunder, 
And  roll  it  over  the  poor  little  heads 
Of  the  fairies,  hiding  under. 

0  fairy  bug  in  the  purple  flower, 

And  fairy  butterfly  lover ! 

Do  you  know  the  words  that  the  fairy  birds 

Kept  singing  over  and  over  ? 

Then  tell  the  fairy  up  in  the  tree 

That  we  read  his  bright  leaf-letter, 

And  we'll  come  and  play  again  some  day, 

For  he  makes  our  playtime  better. 


174  STORIES   OF    WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

THE   CHURCH   IN  THE   WOODS 

A  message  came  from  the  woods  one  day,  writ- 
ten on  thin  birch  bark,  and  tied  with  a  green 
grass  ribbon.  We  untied  the  ribbon,  and  read 
inside :  — 

Dear  Friends,  — 

We  invite  you  to  come  next  Sabbath  to  our 
Woodland  Church.  You  will  receive  a  cordial 
welcome    from    all   my   people    and   from    their 

Pastor>  Jack-in-the-Pulpit. 

'  We  turned  to  thank  the  red-breasted  messenger 
for  the  kind  invitation,  but  he  had  flown  away. 

Next  Sabbath  Day  dawned  bright  and  clear: 
so  dressed  in  our  best,  we  went  over  the  hills  to 
the  church  in  the  woods.  As  we  entered  the  door, 
we  heard  the  silvery  peal  of  lily  bells  ringing  for 
church. 

High  over  our  heads  spread  the  green  arched 
roof,  while  beneath  our  feet  was  a  soft  new  car- 
pet of  emerald  green. 

Far  up  the  aisle,  in  a  queer  little  pulpit,  the 


A  WOODLAND  PREACHER 


THE   CHURCH  IN  THE  WOODS  177 

preacher  stood,  in  a  long  green  gown.  A  low 
strain  of  music  from  the  wind  organ  came  steal- 
ing through  the  arches  and  down  the  aisles  as 
we  took  our  seats. 

Then  the  choir  of  bird  voices,  in  their  high  gal- 
lery, burst  forth  into  glorious  melody. 

Song  sparrow's  trill  rang  out  clear  and  sweet, 
and  the  thrushes  warbled  their  liquid  notes. 

Next  came  a  deep  bass  solo  by  a  gorgeous  bee 
dressed  all  in  black-and-gold  velvet. 

Columbine  sentinels  stood  all  around  with 
their  red  trumpets  held  in  their  hands.  Sweet 
violets  with  heads  bent  in  prayer;  clovers  in 
bonnets  of  red  and  white ;  buttercups  with  bright, 
beaming  faces  ;  daisies  with  friendly,  welcoming 
smiles;  dandelions  proud  of  their  golden  hair; 
and  dear  little  bluets  turning  their  meek,  pretty 
faces  up  to  the  sun,  —  all  came  to  hear  what  the 
preacher  had  to  say. 

We  saw  all  the  people  in  their  gay  spring 
gowns,  we  listened  to  the  organ  and  the  choir  of 
birds  and  bees;  but  never  a  word  did  we  hear 
from  Jack-in-the-Pulpit. 


178  STOEIES   OF  WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

THE   ROBINS'   HOME 

Since  their  return  from  the  south,  in  April, 
two  robins  have  been  flying  about  the  orchard, 
busily  planning  a  new  house. 

Without  any  help  from  carpenters,  bricklayers, 
or  plasterers,  and  with  no  tools  except  their  own 
bills  and  claws,  they  have  built  and  furnished  a 
house  in  the  crooked  old  apple  tree. 

The  coarse  twigs  and  grasses,  and  bits  of  old 
paper  and  string,  rudely  woven  together,  make  it 
look  like  a  log  cabin  on  the  outside ;  but  inside  it 
is  nicely  plastered  with  mud,  papered  with  soft 
grasses  and  leaves,  and  carpeted  with  bits  of  cot- 
ton, wool,  and  feathers. 

This  makes  a  comfortable  nursery  for  the  baby 
robins  when  they  peck  their  way  out  of  the  blue 
eggs. 

Peep  into  the  nursery.  Did  you  ever  see  such 
funny  little  birds,  with  hardly  a  feather  to  their 
backs  ?  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin  think  them  the 
handsomest  children  in  the  world,  so  you  must  be 
careful  to  say  nothing  to  hurt  their  feeliAgs. 


THE  KOBINS'   HOME  179 

They  wear  only  a  few  pin-feathers  and  some 
little  patches  of  down  now,  but  before  long  they 
will  wear  whole  suits  of  spotted  feathers;  and 
when  these  get  torn  and  frayed,  the  old  feathers 
will  drop  out  and  new  ones  will  grow. 

Isn't  that  an  easy  way  to  get  a  new  suit  of 
clothes  ? 

When  they  grow  up,  they  will  wear  their  best 
suits,  with  slate-colored  coats,  red  vests,  white 
neckties,  and  saucy  black  caps  and  tails. 

How  many  robins  have  you  seen  this  spring  ? 


THE   SECRET 


We  have  a  secret,  just  we  three,  — 
The  robin  and  I  and  the  sweet  cherry  tree,  — 
The  bird  told  the  tree,  and  the  tree  told  me ; 
And  nobody  knows  it  but  just  we  three. 

But  of  course  the  robin  knows  it  best, 
Because  she  built  the  —  I  sha Vt  tell  the  rest 
And  laid  the  four  little  —  somethings  in  it : 
I'm  afraid  I  shall  tell  it  every  minute. 

—  George  Cooper 


180 


STORIES   OF   WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


ROBIN  AT   SCHOOL 


Even 
the  best 
built  nest  is 
a   small   place 
for   a  family   of 
hungry,  fretful  chil- 
dren ;  so  the  mother 
bird  hurries  them  off  to 
school  just  as  soon  as1  they 
are  old  enough  to  go. 

Of  course  they  do  not  have  to 
learn  to  read  and  write,  nor  to  say 
the  multiplication  tables,  for  robins 
do  not  need  such  things ;  but  they  do  have  to 


EOBIN   AT   SCHOOL  181 

learn  to  sing  and  to  fly,  to  find  worms,  and  to 
keep  their  clothes  clean. 

The  school  is  very  near  the  nest,  usually  on  the 
same  branch. 

Father  and  Mother  Robin  are  both  teachers,  but 
the  father  is  the  principal  of  the  school.  Some- 
times he  stands  his  class  up  in  a  row  and  gives 
them  stretching  lessons  to  make  their  wings  strong, 
while  he  counts,  "  Chirp,  chirp!  Chirp,  chirp!77 
which  means,  "  One,  two !     One,  two ! 7' 

Then,  chirping  and  twittering,  he  flies  off  a  little 
way,  calling  to  his  oldest  son,  "  Watch  me !  Come, 
Rob  ! 77     But  Rob  is  afraid. 

"  You  go,  Pin-feathers,  you7re  the  baby;  I'll  let 
you  have  first  go,77  peeps  Rob. 

"  Cheer-up,  cheer-up !  Come,  come  ! 77  calls  the 
father. 

After  a  great  deal  of  coaxing,  the  babies  flop 
and  tumble  about,  waving  their  little  wings. 

"Very  good!  That7s  enough  for  one  lesson,77 
chirps  the  teacher.  "  In  a  few  weeks  you'll  learn 
to  fly  as  well  as  I  do ;  then  I'll  teach  you  how  to 
scratch  for  worms.77 


182  STORIES   OF   WOODS   AND   FIELDS 


THE   PIPER'S   SONG 

Piping  down  the  valleys  wild, 
Piping  songs  of  pleasant  glee, 

On  a  cloud  I  saw  a  child, 

And  he,  laughing,  said  to  me, 

"Pipe  a  song  about  a  lamb," 
So  I  piped  with  merry  cheer ; 

"Piper,  pipe  that  song  again," 
So  I  piped,  he  wept  to  hear. 

"  Piper,  sit  thee  down  and  write 
In  a  book,  that  all  may  read :  " 

So  he  vanished  from  my  sight, 
And  I  plucked  a  hollow  reed, 

And  I  made  a  rural  pen, 

And  I  stained  the  water  clear, 

And  I  wrote  my  happy  songs 
Every  child  may  joy  to  hear. 

—  William  Blake. 


HELPFUL  ROBUST 


183 


HELPFUL   ROBIN 


Do  you  know  what  robin 
likes  to  eat  ? 

I   am   afraid   you  will 
think  he  has  very  strange  ; 
taste ;  but  he  really  thinks 
grasshoppers,  beetles,  cat- 
erpillars,    bugs,     spiders, 
snails,  and  angle-worms  the  choicest 
meats  in  Nature's  market,  and  cherries, 
persimmons,  cranberries,  blueberries,  bit- 
ter    dogwood     berries,    mulberries,    and 
sumach  the  finest  of  fruits. 

Just  think  how  he  helps  the  farmer  by  eating 
the  insects  which  destroy  his  fruit,  grain,  and 
vegetables ! 

If  it  were  not  for  robin  and  our  other  bird 
friends,  —  the  bluebirds,  catbirds,  orioles,  meadow- 
larks,  phoebes,  and  pewees,  —  the  army  of  insects 
would  ruin  the  crops  all  over  the  country.  The 
farmers  do  not  know  what  good  friends  of  theirs 
the  birds  are. 


184  STOEIES   OF   WOODS   AND  FIELDS 

Is  it  not  strange  that  so  many  of  them  shoot 
these  birds  just  because  they  help  themselves  to 
a  few  cherries  before  the  wild  fruits  are  ripe  ? 

It  seems  only  fair  play  to  let  the  birds  have  a 
share  of  the  fruit  they  protect. 

Wise  men,  who  have  learned  that  most  birds 
like  wild  fruits  ten  times  as  much  as  they  do  the 
cultivated  ones,  are  planting  wild  fruit-bearing 
vines  and  shrubs  around  their  orchards  and  gar- 
dens, especially  for  the  birds. 

In  this  way  they  save  their  fruit,  and  win  happy 
songs  from  robin  and  his  choir  of  sweet  song  birds. 

Now  that  you  know  so  much  about  the  robin, 
you  should  try  to  make  friends  with  him  and 
with  some  other  birds.  He  and  the  bluebird  are 
very  sociable ;  so  are  the  pewee,  the  vireo,  and 
the  summer  yellow-bird.  They  all  like  to  build 
their  nests  near  your  houses. 

You  should  know  something,  too,  of  a  man 
named  Audubon,  who  was  a  great  lover  of  birds. 
Try  to  find  out  if  there  is  not  in  your  own  State  a 
bird  protection  society  named  after  him. 

Robin's  advice  to  you  is,  Join  it! 


THE  DRAGON  FLY 


185 


THE   DRAGON  FLY 

Don't  you  think  a  pond  was  a 
very  strange  birthplace  for  a  dainty 
lace-winged  dragon  fly  ? 

Its  cradle  was  the  green  leaf  of 
a  water-plant,  and  its  nursery  the 
muddy  bottom  of  the  pond,  where 
it  played  merrily  with  baby  beetles, 
mayflies,  and  mosquitoes,  for 
nearly  a  year. 

This  is  how  it  happened. 

One  summer  day,  in  flying  over 
the  water,  the  mother  dragon  fly 
laid  some  small  white  eggs,  which 
sank  to  the  bottom  of  the  pond, 


186  STORIES   OF  WOODS   AND   FIELDS 

among  the  stalks  and  green  leaves  of  some  plants 
growing  there. 

By  and  by  the  eggs  hatched;  and  some  very 
queer-looking  creatures  came  out,  having  long 
slender  bodies,  great  glaring  eyes,  strong  jaws, 
and  six  legs. 

This  dragon  fly  was  one  of  them.  Like  its 
brothers  and  sisters,  it  had  no  wings,  so  it  could 
not  fly,  of  course ;  but  it  was  a  fine  swimmer  and 
diver. 

Do  you  see  the  long,  bag-shaped  mask  over  its 
strong  jaws  ? 

When  it  is  hungry,  the  dragon  fly  hides  among 
the  leaves  or  stones  until  a  beetle,  a  mosquito,  or 
some  other  water  insect  comes  along;  then  it 
opens  its  mask,  thrusts  out  a  pair  of  pincers  hid- 
den within  it,  and  draws  the  poor  insect  into  its 
jaws,  and  eats  it  for  dinner. 

After  living  for  nearly  a  year  in  the  water,  and 
feeding  on  all  sorts  of  insects,  the  dragon  fly  gets 
ready  to  spend  the  rest  of  its  life  in  the  air. 

It  climbs  up  on  a  stalk  and  stands  quite  still 
Then  strange  things  happen. 


THE  DRAGON-FLY 


THE  DRAGON  FLY  189 

Its  mask  drops  off,  its  skin  splits  down  the 
back,  and  four  beautiful,  gleaming  wings  unfold 
to  carry  it  through  the  air. 

This  sounds  like  a  fairy  story ;  but  it  is  better 
than  a  fairy  tale,  because  it  is  all  true. 

The  next  time  you  hear  any  one  call  the  beauti- 
ful dragon  fly  a  snake  doctor  or  a  darning  needle, 
you  must  tell  him  what  you  know  about  its  life. 

Don't  you  think  children  are  very  foolish  to  be 
afraid  of  an  insect  which  has  no  claws,  no  teeth, 
and  no  sting  ? 

VIOLETS 

Under  the  green  hedges,  after  the  snow, 
There  do  the  dear  little  violets  grow, 
Hiding  their  modest  and  beautiful  heads 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  soft,  mossy  beds. 

Sweet  as  the  roses,  and  blue  as  the  sky, 
Down  there  do  the  dear  little  violets  lie, 
Hiding  their  heads  where  they  scarce  may  be  seen ; 
By  the  leaves  you  may  know  where  the  violet 
hath  been.  _j,  Moultrie. 


190  STORIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 


TWO   OF   A   TRADE 


The  dragon  fly  and  I  together 
Sail  up  the  stream  in  the  summer  weather ; 
He  at  the  stern,  all  green  and  gold, 
And  I  at  the  oars,  our  course  to  hold. 

• 
Above  the  floor  of  the  level  river 

The  bent  blades  dip  and  spring  and  quiver ; 
And  the  dragon  fly  is  here  and  there, 
Along  the  water  and  in  the  air. 

And  thus  we  go  as  the  sunshine  mellows, 
A  pair  of  Nature's  merriest  fellows  ; 
For  the  boat  of  cedar  is  light  and  true, 
And  instead  of  one  it  has  carried  two. 

And  thus  we  sail,  without  care  or  sorrow, 
With  trust  for  to-day,  and  hope  for  to-morrow; 
He  at  the  stern,  all  green  and  gold, 
And  I  at  the  oars,  our  course  to  hold. 

S.    W.    DUFFIELD. 


THE   BIRTHDAY   OF  OUR  FLAG  191 

THE   BIRTHDAY   OF   OUR  FLAG 

It  was  the  birthday  of  "  Our  Flag." 

The  whole  country  was  invited  to  the  party; 
and  from  the  tops  of  schoolhouses,  post- 
offices,  and  other  public  buildings,  from  church 
towers  and  private  houses,  the  gayly  striped  and 
starred  flags  of  bunting  and  silk  waved  in  the 
summer  breezes.  The  boats  on  the  river  and 
ships  in  the  harbor  wore  their  party  dresses  too. 

Do  you  know  how  old  the  flag  is  ? 

It  was  born  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  June,  1777, 
in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  in  a  two-story  house 
with  quaint  dormer  windows. 

On  the  first  floor  there  was  an  upholsterer's 
shop,  kept  by  Mrs.  Betsy  Ross,  who  made  the 
first  flag  of  the  new  nation,  under  the  direction  of 
General  Washington. 

Like  our  flag  of  to-day,  it  had  thirteen  stripes, 
—  seven  of  red  and  six  of  white ;  but  it  had  only 
thirteen  white  stars  in  a  blue  field,  instead  of 
forty-five. 

In  the  early  days  there  was  one  stripe  and  one 


192  STOKIES   OF  WOODS  AND  FIELDS 

star  in  the  flag  for  each  State ;  but  as  the  country 
grew,  and  new  States  were  made,  Congress  decided 
to  keep  the  thirteen  stripes  in  honor  of  the  thir- 
teen original  States,  and  to  add  a  star  for  each 
new  one  as  it  came  into  the  Union. 

Do  you  know  why  we  love  and  honor  the  flag, 
and  why  brave  men  have  died  to  protect  it  ? 

You  will  love  it  more  when  you  have  studied 
the  history  of  our  country. 

This  is  the  pledge  which  the  school-children  all 
over  our  land  repeat  on  Flag  Day  :  — - 

"I  pledge  allegiance  to  my  flag  and  to  the 
Republic  for  which  it  stands;  one  nation  indi- 
visible, with  liberty  and  justice  for  all." 


My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, 

Of  thee  I  sing. 
Land  where  my  fathers  died, 
Land  of  the  Pilgrims'  pride, 
From  every  mountain  side 

Let  Freedom  ring. 


—  S.  F.  Smith. 


Tb  J66UJ 


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